Blackwater A through Z
by cucumber07
Summary: Collection of AU oneshots centering around Jacob and Leah, following the Alphabet. Letter prompts provided by Kei Kat Jones and myself. Enjoyyy.
1. A is for Argument

**A is for Argument.**

**Rated: T**

"Why cant you just _stay_?"

They'd had this argument thousands of times. She'd heard the words come out of her mouth over and over and over again and it always came back down to the face he was giving her at that exact moment. That blank stare that always made her feel as if he were looking through her, that he was _dying_ for this conversation to be over and it always made her so angry that she was sure she'd implode. She watched his jaw twitch, his brows raise and lower, his mouth open and close. It was always the same. His next words were as precise as they'd been the last twenty times.

"Just drop it, Leah."

And so he walked passed her and she stayed at their home and for the next twelve hours she and Seth and the rest of their pack would wonder where he was and if he was alright. Because that's what always happened when she brought it up, and she wondered if there would ever be a time when he'd be able to look her in the eye and tell her why he did it. Why he couldn't stay with them. Why he could do all the amazing things that he'd done and still be somebody else's go-to-guy. A toy. A pawn.

It didn't make sense.

But just as regulated as the argument and the facial expressions and the answer he gave, he came back home the next morning and crawled in their bed and was there, watching TV, when she got home from work. The scrapes and bruises were fading and his face was beginning to lose the swelling she'd noticed when she'd checked for him that morning. His black shirt and shorts kept the extent of his injuries out of sight, but she knew he would be on tip toes for the next few days. Sometimes, she wondered what it was, exactly, that he did when he left. Because no matter how many times she or one of the others demanded an answer, he'd never give in. He never gave details, never let them in on some sort of hint.

There was always a random phone call on some unspecific day from some unknown number and he'd always answer the same way. _You got Jacob. _And then he'd go upstairs, pack a duffel, and try to give a few short goodbyes. Then the argument would ensue. In ways, letting it go was the easiest way to handle it. When she didn't he just got angry and they would be on awkward terms for the next week or so after and he'd sleep somewhere else until he felt comfortable in their house again. The part of her that knew she deserved better than to be kept in this dark, weird place he had her in always pushed her to keep fighting. Keep arguing, keep poking, keep nosing in his business. But then she'd spend a week or two alone with the boys, alone in their house, alone with the life they'd started a few months before, and she'd remember why she put up with him. After the fourth or fifth time, she knew he did it on purpose. Another way to shut her up, to hold her off until the next time his phone rang that unfamiliar tone.

In the beginning, she'd been a little concerned about what he was doing. A little frightened even once he refused to indulge Embry and Quil in some way or the other. Cheating crossed her mind maybe once, but his injuries never quite added up with that scenario. And then there was Seth, thinking that maybe he'd gotten in with the wrong crowd….whatever that meant. But the mud on his tires and that strange, mildewed smell didn't exactly point to the city. And maybe all of this had let her feel a _little_ more comfortable with not knowing where he was or who he was with, but this time something had crossed her mind and she couldn't find the strength to let it go. And when he entered the kitchen for dinner, the side of his face that had been hidden from her that morning now in sight, she couldn't hold her tongue.

"What the hell happened to your face?"

He barely glanced at her before sitting down and giving her a halfhearted shrug.

"So, you wont tell me where you go.. You wont tell me who calls you right before you leave… and now you come home with a face the size of a watermelon, and cant tell me what happened to it?"

"It's not that serious, Leah."

Embry snorted. "What gotta holda you?"

And then he…. _smiled_? He dodges her question and then _smiles_ at Embry? "Excuse me? I asked you a question!"

It went on for a few moments. Back and forth, up and down, left to right. She yelled, he shrugged. It was the usual argument, only it hadn't started with a phone call. This time, he wasn't being quite as invested, wasn't giving her the _calm downs_ or the _please just stops_. It was a little different and she found herself a bit satisfied with the way it was headed. He was getting irritated, flustered, annoyed. That was good, right? Because… hello! It was her that had to worry about him all the time. It was her that had to fight her first instinct to go after him and see for herself what the hell he was up to. It wasn't fair that he always left as calm as he entered. It wasn't fair that he got to just _leave_ whenever he got mad about what she was saying and stay gone until _he_ felt better. What kind of fucked up relationship were they in, anyway?

"I'm not going to sit around like this forever, Jacob! I'm not going to keep dealing with this shit until you get over whatever PMS episode you've had going on the past few weeks. Doesn't it _bother _you? Does-"

And when his phone rang and interrupted her mid-sentence, she'd half expected him not to answer it. She'd _hoped_ that he wouldn't answer it. The first almost-conversation they'd gotten in about this shouldn't have been cut short by the very thing they were arguing about to begin with. But he did answer, and he did get up, and he did turn to her with an odd look on his face and give her a half smile. It was almost surreal, how quickly he obeyed the voice on the other end of the phone, and she didn't bother stopping her mouth from voicing what she had been thinking since the last time he left.

"It's her, isn't it?"

He stopped.

"What did she come back to town? Needed her precious Jakey-Poo back to comfort her and be her little bitch?"

When he shook his head, she thought she'd made some kind of progress. That maybe the tone of her voice or the accusation in itself would make him turn around and explain to her that, no, it wasn't what she thought and, _give me a break_, like that would ever happen. But he didn't. He didn't turn around or say something over his shoulder to reassure her. He didn't give her one of those stony glares that could answer whatever question she was asking, dumb or not. He reached under the coffee table in the living room and snatched that damn duffel, patted Seth on the shoulder, and left.

It took the headlights shining through the window to really dignify the blow. And this time, she wasn't sure she'd be there when he got back. Why should she be? What reason did she have to stay? Because she loved him? Obviously that wasn't enough. So what, then? Sit and wait. Pack up and ditch. What other option did she have other than….

They hadn't had a chance to stop her from grabbing her keys, but they'd made it to the driveway in time to dive through the car doors and cram themselves in the back seat. The three of them tried to think of something to say to change her mind, but Jacob's taillights were in front of them all too quickly and they were following him off an exit they didn't recognize before they could register that, yes, they were in fact about to stalk their best friend and possibly witness him being mauled by his girlfriend. Who just so happened to be their Beta, which is why their mouths were currently sealed shut despite the growing and nearly overwhelming urge to protest her actions.

And when Embry finally did attempt to stifle her anger the slightest bit….

"Shut up Embry or I'll throw you out of the car and your ass will be sleeping outside for the rest of your life!"

His mouth clicked closed and their eyes turned to the windows and the unfamiliar scenery whizzing by them. The ride down the interstate seemed shorter than it should have been and the anticipation for what they would find became down right palpable the longer they remained silent. Jacob turned again, this time taking them to a town that reminded Embry a lot of another reservation they'd been to once before. Then once they turned onto the first dirt road, it was mud and gravel from that point forward. Explained the condition of his vehicle every time he came home. Another thirty minutes and they were surrounded by thick forest and the road narrowed enough that Leah was forced to slow down to keep from blowing their cover. Cover that didn't matter a few minutes later when they came up on a line of cars parked on the sides of the road. The stretch of cars went on for what seemed like miles until they finally reached the front of a chain-link fence, men in bright green vests with glow sticks pointing them in the opposite direction.

"Ma'am, there's more parking to your left. I cant promise a short walk but we got a big show tonight. Keep it moving, please."

"A big _show_?" Seth blurted out. "What kind of _show_?"

Parking was manageable, but the walk back to the gate was torture. First she was walking slow, then fast, then slow again. She wanted to know, then she didn't, then she did… then she didn't. There weren't many things she could think of to explain what that traffic guy meant by show. In fact, she couldn't think of _anything_.

"Maybe he's on a date?"

She stopped long enough to glare at Quil, and picked back up at twice her previous speed.

He shrugged. "What else could it be? Maybe he meets a chick here every so often or something. Maybe she lives nearby?"

When she didn't say anything, he felt a little guilty. And he had every right to. It wasn't as if she hadn't thought of that exact same scenario a thousand times _before_ now. It wasn't as if she had already been secretly worried and a tad self-conscious about their relationship to begin with. Jacob hadn't exactly been _involved_ as of recent. She could have said all of it and more, screamed it in his face, punched him in the gut….but the silence served her well, because he didn't say another word and neither did she until they reached the gate.

"That'll be 1 Benji a piece."

Leah blinked. "What!"

"You heard me lady, hundred bucks a piece. You got a line behind ya so get a move on. It's in or out."

Leah cringed at the money in her hand as she pulled it from her purse, wanted to cry at how it looked leaving her hand and being shoved so carelessly into the rusted cash register. It'd taken her weeks to save up that much…

"It's alright, Lee. We'll get that money back."

She slapped Seth's hand from her shoulder. "Oh, I know we will. I didn't save up working at that piece of shit diner to get a better place for _us_, just to piss it away on his sorry ass. _He'll _be getting that money back."

They heard the excited shouts and the rumble of hundreds of voices a good ways from where they actually _saw_ all the people. The building was pretty broken down. All she could smell was mold and wanted to scream when she felt the drips from the pipes landing on her hair and shoulders. It was _disgusting_.

"What kind of date is this?" She heard Quil whisper. "I cant believe it's a hundred a piece to get into this dump."

She agreed.

They followed the '_Main Event_' signs until they reached a narrow hallway and stopped when they got to the double doors leading out to whatever it was they were there to see. She was frozen there for just a moment, long enough for people to start shoving she and the other three, telling them to get out there, they were going to miss it. And upon actually seeing what was in that giant, overflowing room….she couldn't quite form words.

"All bets are taken at the booths to your right, either place a bet or take a seat. Keep it moving people, lets go!"

The four of them were confused. Beyond confused.

"I said keep it moving people, please don't make me toss you. There's no refunds."

The man with the ugly red vest flailed his arms a few more times towards a few empty seats and, wordlessly, they obeyed. They sat down side by side, taking in the smell of cigars and alcohol and women's perfume. The noise was overpowering thought process and she couldn't put two and two together. Her eyes glanced over the crowed a few times, searching for his face, for his eyes, for anything. But he was nowhere to be found on their side, and she couldn't see to the opposite end of the stadium. She turned to Embry and shook her head, her brows knitted together and her eyes narrowed. He could only shrug before the lights dimmed and the shouts died down to a noisy hum.

"Ladies and Gentleman, can I have your attention, please!"

The voice overhead shook their seats and made them wince, but their eyes were focused on the center of the room. Lights shone over a large curtained area, men stood around it, ropes in hand.

"Welcome to our main event of the evening! If everyone will please take their seats, we will begin momentarily!"

She couldn't pay attention to the hundreds of people scurrying to sit down, or the men with boxes hung over their neck; some with hot dogs and candy, others with beer and sodas. Embry waved them all away, just as confused and intrigued and nervous as Leah.

And then the curtain was pulled, people cheered, and the four of them remained in a stunned silence. It was a…. a ring? A boxing ring? A…

The voice came back on overhead and introduced the first fighter. Terrell 'The Tank' Forester. 6'5. 272 pounds.

"What the hell is going on?"

Leah barely acknowledged her brother, didn't dare look away from that ring.

And when Mr. Forester was in the ring, running in circles, shouting something nobody could hear in all his scarred, puffy eyed glory… they announced the second fighter. Jacob Black. 6'7. 265 pounds.

"He didn't even use a fake name?"

She turned to Quil, blinked a few times. "You think this is funny?"

He shrugged. "Not funny.. Just figured he'd be smart enough to use a fake name. You can get in a ton of trouble for these underground fights."

"What makes you think this is something illegal? It looks pretty well funded to me."

Quil rolled his eyes at Seth, pointed, and said, "bare knuckles. Shitty ass building out in the middle of nowhere. Not that hard to figure out, kid."

And then they fell silent because the first punch was thrown and she couldn't for the life of her make herself turn away. He was _letting_ this guy hit him. He was a giant, twenty year old _shape shifter_, for crying out loud! Why would he _let_ someone beat on him like that? The whole thing was completely and totally out of her already strange reality and watching that idiot dance around some rigged together ring, some guy pounding his face in, made her want to go down there and drag his dumb ass home before he got killed. The first bell rang out and she watched him walk over to his corner. Watched some guy she had never seen before dab at his cuts, pour water in his mouth, over his face, across his shoulders. And then she noticed the barely there grin lighting up the right side of his face. Was he.. _enjoying_ this? There was no possible way _anyone_ could enjoy getting the shit kicked out of them. She sure as hell wouldn't be caught dead in that ring unless she was in it to win it.

Once the second bell rang out, she realized why he'd been grinning. It was a game. Within minutes the guy was on the ground, another bell was sounded, the guy calling the shots was counting and as soon as he hit ten Jacob's arms were in the air and everyone was cheering. It was over just like that. People began clearing out after the last announcements were made, the stands quieted. She kept her eyes glued to Jacob and as soon as the numbers flushed enough they were hurrying down to follow him through whatever door he'd disappeared behind. They passed a few guys in white. Coaches, she assumed. They passed the ref., counting money outside of the bathroom. And when they reached the end of the hall they paused at the door labeled, 'locker room'.

"I'll go," Embry said slowly.

Leah only shook her head before shoving the door open.

He was standing there, calm and relaxed, unwrapping his hands in front of a mirror. She didn't have to say a word.

"So was it what you thought?" He asked conversationally, his reflection peering up at her.

She shook her head, folded her arms. "You wanna explain?"

"Explain what? You figured it out, right? You followed me here, watched the show, got what you wanted. What else is there to say? You know now."

Embry raised a brow at probably the most animated, _longest_ sentence he'd heard from Jacob in a few weeks.

"Why are you _bare knuckle_ boxing at this dump?" Seth said through a chuckle, shaking his head thoughtfully.

Jacob's head tilted toward his duffel bag but he didn't make a move, only gave them an impatient look when they stayed put. Quil was the first to reach for it, and started when Jacob kicked the bench.

"Open it, Leah."

She shook her head stubbornly. Not that she felt stupid or anything. _He_ was the one lying about boxing….not her. It's not like he'd just squashed all the thousands of different names and threats and insults she'd come up with for when she finally figured out what was going on. No.. she just didn't want to see.

"Just open the damn bag," he grumped from the sink, shaking his head. "You know you want to."

"I don't give a shit what's in that bag."

And she poked out a hip, turned up her chin, just to prove her point.

"Fine." He shrugged. "Go ahead Quil."

He heard the smack and grinned. So maybe it was wrong to use Quil as bait. _Maybe_.

She pulled the zipper back slowly, acting as if she were actually _afraid_ of what was inside and she nearly ripped Embry's face off when she heard him laughing. But once it was open and her eyes scanned over the clothes neatly folded in rows, she frowned.

"Clothes?"

"Really?" Jacob asked with a huff. "_Under_ the clothes, Leah, work with me here."

As hard as it was _not_ to throw the bag at him, she maintained her calm and carefully pulled each piece of clothing out and just about choked on her own spit when she saw what was in the bottom.

"Guy approached me in the diner parking lot one night after I left, asked me if I'd be interested in some fighting. Of course I said no without a second thought. But then he found me a few days later at work, waited until I got off and cut me off at the gate. Asked me to just come watch, see what I thought before I said no."

She was listening. Really, she was. But her eyes were glued to the stacks of money sitting in the bottom of the bag.

"The first time I came here, I wasn't real impressed. Met a few of the fighters, listened to a few stories. Wasn't until a guy named Rick showed me the pay that I actually thought it over. Place has been running for years. Nobody's ever got in any trouble. Hell, a few of the cops in neighboring counties come here on the weekends. Place a few bets, make a few bucks. S'no biggie."

She looked up, a little dazed. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"For one, I knew you wouldn't want me doing it. You'd have said no and you know I wouldn't have been able to convince you otherwise."

He paused, stifled a smile. "And I wanted some time."

"Time for what?"

He nodded towards the bag again, tilted his head. "Side pocket."

Embry cleared his throat, took a few steps forward. "So how much do you actually make?"

"Depends on the fight. Small fight you clear a few grand, big fights land you in double digits. They charge a hundred bucks just to get in, that's not including all the bets made. We get a cut of whatever they rake in. I got enough in that bag to move us out of state if we wanted to. Buy a house, whatever we want."

Judging by the choking noises Leah was suddenly making, he figured she'd found his little surprise. He looked over at her, raised a brow. "What?"

The little box fit perfectly in the palm of her hand, and she couldn't understand why such a simple little rock and a thin little band made her want to hurl and cry all at the same time. There had to be a healthier way of dealing with things.

"What is this?"

"It's for you."

"_Obviously_," she deadpanned. "But what is it for?"

"Well…," Jacob said slowly, tapping his chin. "I cant be sure, honestly, I'm no rocket scientist or anything.. But I think you _wear_ it. You should probably ask around but that'd be my bet."

She narrowed her eyes, fixed him with a glare. "You _know_ what I mean, Jacob."

"Right, I'm outta here."

She looked at Embry who was hurriedly following Seth and Quil out of the room. Her eyes widened when she heard a strangled, hideously uncomfortable noise. Did she just.. _gulp_?

He laughed.

"It's whatever you want it to be, Leah. We don't have to get married. I just wanted to get you something special. Something you wouldn't expect."

She eyed the sparkling abomination in her hand, slowly extracted it from the box like a specialist diffusing a bomb.

"It's pretty."

He basically doubled over with laughter and she felt the blush creeping up before she could manage some sort of escape scowl or stony-looking mask or….

"It's pretty?" He pushed off the sink and was in front of her, breathing up all her air, before she could blink. "Really, it doesn't have to be a big deal. Like I said, I just wanted to get you something special."

Some estranged, girly part of her deep, deep, _deep_ down inside was jumping for joy at the sight of that small little diamond sliding onto her finger. At the sight of his hand moving over hers and his lips placing a small, quick kiss to the finger that was now more expensive than all her others. She could feel how red her face was and refused to look at him. _Get a grip_.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "But you're ass is still in the dog house for walking out on me. And lying. And keeping secrets. And.."

He rolled his eyes as he followed her out the doors, duffel bag securely over his shoulder. "yeah, yeah. I know."

And once they were in the car and he was kissing her senseless, she forgot a few of the reasons why she would hate him for the next week or so. _Only_ a few.

"So, was it worth it?" She asked once they were on the interstate.

"What?"

"Oh I dunno.. Getting your ass beat over and over again? All the arguing we did the last few weeks?"

He laughed. "Ha! I'd get my ass kicked any day over arguing with you. It's the most exhausting thing I've ever experienced."

"And that's why you should just tell me what I want to know and get it over with."

"I'm pretty sure you wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you didn't have me to argue with. I'm the only one left standing that can handle it."

She smiled and rested her head against the window. She could let that one slide because, being the mature, grounded person that she was… she could admit the truth when she heard it.

.

**a/n. - So! After a very long absence, here I am. :) As I said in the description, this will be a collection of one-shots centered around Leah and Jacob, following the Alphabet. For each letter, there's a prompt, creatively provided my Kei Kat Jones and myself. Anyone that's interested can use the prompts provided and create their own little ABC adventure, I just ask that if you're gonna play with us, follow our few little guidelines. 1. Must be Blackwater in some way or the other, and that doesn't mean they all have to be romantic or lemons or anything like that. Just Leah and Jacob in some shape. 2. Must be One shots. Length doesn't matter, just so long as it has a beginning and end. 3. Must relate to the letter's designated prompt in some way or the other. 4. Must be CREATIVE. These are all AU and are completely different than anything we've done. We want them to be interesting, and something that you wouldn't normally see in a Blackwater story. Different world, different planet, era.. whatever. Doesn't matter. Just so long as it's fun. :)**

**Reviews are always lovely... hope you enjoy**!


	2. B is for Ball

**B is for Ball**

**Rated: T**

The music flowed elegantly through the ballroom as couples gathered in the center for one of the more traditional dances. The soft setting of the lights made it easy for him to blend with the rest of the costumed guests but was just bright enough to make finding Paul and Embry possible if needed. He didn't bother with Quil. Guy was probably already throwing back too many glasses of champagne and _attempting_ a pick up line or two. Maybe it would have bothered someone else, knowing that one of their accomplices was trouncing around without a care in the world while everyone else did all the work. But he and the other two knew that the only reason Quil was even allowed around them was because he was Jacob's cousin. And, well, Jacob had a soft spot for the kid.

After making his rounds and counting out the guards on duty and clocking their rotations, Jacob motioned to Embry and watched him slip out the door closest to the back. It'd be about fifteen minutes before they could make another move so he figured this was the part where he had to start socializing, keep the attention off of Paul and a now missing Embry. This was always the worst part of the heist. Talking to the snobs and Dukes and Princesses and soon-to-be this or that's. Not that he had anything against these people personally, he just didn't really care for striking up conversation with their targets. The original plan for this specific New Year's Eve was to hit the Grand Duke's house last, taking out all of the vacant homes while everyone was in attendance at the cannot-be-missed celebration. But then Jacob found out about just how rich and important this Grand Duke was and decided against overworking himself and his friends. There really would have been no point with the stacks of dough sitting right behind the center of all the commotion.

And so began the most boring and irrelevant conversation he'd ever been lucky enough to be sucked into and by the time the Duchess of something or other had finished with her very _un_funny story, his head was ready to explode from his shoulders. He threw back the eighth or ninth glass of champagne he'd been handed… _or tenth?_… and was surprisingly appreciative when a young woman asked him for a dance. He felt so out of place following the flow of the music and hugging this stranger so close to his body. Usually, it was him that was outside, doing most of the work, and the other three inside with the guests, flirting and discussing politics and having a good time. For whatever reason, he'd let them talk him into changing it up. And, of course, he was miserable. He honestly wasn't meant for all this formality. Even his Zorro getup didn't take away from the overall prestige of the room and the house and the people that were all over every inch of it.

"You don't talk much… do you?"

He let his eyes drift from some spot on the floor over her head to the girl's face and shrugged. What was he supposed to say? If he said yeah, sure I do, she'd expect him to engage in conversation for the rest of this dance, (dance that seemed as if it should have been over about, what, an hour ago?). And then there was option B. Be rude, say nothing or just _no_, and probably draw attention from whoever she'll run off gossiping to about the guy in the Zorro suit that hadn't said two words to her during their should-have-been-romantic dance. _How dare he_?

"Sorry," he obliged calmly. "Just a little overwhelmed. I don't usually do this kind of thing."

And funnily enough, he wasn't lying.

"Oh really?" She gushed, obviously eating up his non-lie. "Well don't you worry, I'll get you through tonight no problem. My father makes me come to all these stupid things. They really are a breeze once you figure out how to.. -"

_Blah, blah, blah, blah, blahhhh. _

Really, would it be so terrible for someone to actually be _interesting_? Maybe he was put off by her obnoxiously bubbly voice, or just how _bright_ her hair really was. Maybe it was her nauseatingly multi-colored, sparkly….thing, swishing all over his legs and feet and.. _God_ he had to get away from her.

"I'm so sorry," he blurted quickly, pulling away from her. "I need some air."

It didn't get any better once he migrated to the punch, nor when he tried his luck with the men talking all kinds of important, governmenty, _boring_ things. Maybe he had spent too much time being the one who did everything. Maybe playing dress up and dancing in circles and drinking expensive drinks were just too far away from what he'd gotten so used to for him to even _pretend_ to have a good time. It wasn't like he hadn't thought of taking a night or two and just soaking up the good life that wasn't really his. That was the point of what they did, after all. Being a thief entailed taking things that weren't yours… being sneaky… lying and cheating and never losing. But he'd lost interest somewhere between his tenth and fortieth job… maybe fiftieth? Who knows. There'd been so many. Maybe they were up in the three digits now?

He blew a frustrated breath into the night air once he found where solace actually existed. He let his forearms fall to the railing and took an appreciative glance over the property. It was beautiful, he'd give the guy that much. Yeah the house was overdone and everything he'd seen so far was definitely _not_ necessity. But the landscaping was perfect. Vast, natural. It looked nearly untouched and it struck a cord somewhere in his heart, reminding him of where he used to live. Who he used to be. It was surreal to think about sometimes. Just how long ago it was. How far away he'd kept the memories for all this time.

"Hey, man, you alright out here?"

Jacob tilted his head to the side, acknowledged the intruder. "Yeah, just getting some air."

The boy looked vaguely familiar, even with the fancy mask and expensive suit.

"You're the Duke's son, right?"

"Yeah." The boy smiled. "Name's Seth… what's yours?"

He knew better than to indulge in such detail. He knew it was wrong before he even opened his mouth but as soon as his lips parted it was impossible to….

"Jacob."

And so there was the first mistake of the night.

"Cool. Why don't ya come inside? It's getting pretty chilly."

"Sure, kid."

He followed this _Seth_ character smack back into the middle of all the mess he'd been trying to escape and berated himself once he realized how close they were to the Duke. A skimpy few feet at the most. He was caught up in some debate, thankfully, and waved the kid away as soon as he tried to speak to him. He watched Seth's face fall with the blatant dismissal, then recover slightly, then light right back up and his smile was friggin' blinding.

"You want some punch?"

Jacob raised a brow… hesitated.

"I'll go get us some."

And just like that he was darting through the crowd, dipping under arms, ducking beneath treys. He shouldn't have been so amused with the waiters that tripped over their feet or the dancers that were falling into other dancers and so on so forth but, what the hell, right? He was supposed to be enjoying himself. Seth, so far, had been the only interesting thing about his night.

He turned just in time to see Embry slip back through the door, give him the signal, slink back out with Paul in tow. Well, things were obviously going according to plan. Now if he could only make it through the second phase. How had Paul and Embry done this for so long? How had they not died of boredom or starved to death from lack of edible food? And just as he was turning to be sure the Duke remained preoccupied, Seth was back in his face, punch in hand, grinning from ear to ear.

"Where you from, anyway?"

Jacob shifted for a moment, uncomfortable. "Eh, nowhere near here. My friends and I are just here on business for a few days. Heard about this party and landed an invite."

"Oh you're here with friends?"

And there went mistake number two.

"Uh…. Well…"

Thankfully Seth's attention was captured by something or someone across the room for a moment and it gave him just enough time to kick himself in the mouth for being such a shit-eating liar. It wasn't as if they would be killed if caught. No… the Duke seemed like a pretty well rounded guy. Surely he'd understand that, despite their string of robberies across various countries, and the wads of cash they had stored around the world, that yes, sir, they did actually _need_ that money. Right, that would work.

"Jacob, this is my sister, Leah."

Really feeling as if the night couldn't get any worse, he turned, begrudgingly no less, to face yet another person that now knew his real name. And froze mid-complaint when he caught site of her.

"Where'd you pick this guy up?" The girl.. _Leah_, had said warily to her brother.

He followed her eyes that glanced ever-so-obviously over his entire body and realized a few milliseconds later that he was wearing the dumbest grin probably known to man.

She smiled. "What are you supposed to be? Zorro on steroids?"

"Says the tie-die princess," he snarked, matching her smile. "I'm sorry, did my lack of tribute to the color spectrum offend you?"

And he would receive his very first glare from Leah Clearwater, feathery mask n' all.

"Maybe," she grumped, moving to circle him. "Or maybe I just don't agree with steroids."

He stood still, letting her complete whatever size-up she was working out. "Funny, I don't remember the invitation mentioning a clown as our entertainment. Maybe you're at the wrong party?"

He heard Seth laugh but kept his eyes on the girl. She was, after all, inching a little too close for comfort.

He found that tsk-ing noise she was making a little too cute. "Is that any way to speak to the Duke's daughter?"

He laughed. A full, heartfelt laugh that he found both invigorating and annoying. No, he didn't laugh like that often but, obviously, in his line of work it wasn't really in the protocol. Still, he found himself chuckling at her frowning, pouty face.

"What's so funny?" She demanded, hand on hip. "In case you didn't get that first part, I'm his _sister_. He's the Duke's son… c'mon big guy I'm sure you can connect the dots."

His smile was gone almost instantaneously. Well shit.

Mistake number three.

"Well what kinda royalty are you, anyway?" He grouched once he recovered from the initial embarrassment.

"Meaning?"

He shrugged. "You're not very… _proper_."

Her mouth agape, she slugged him dead on the shoulder. And it actually.. _hurt_.

"What the hell was that?" He asked, rubbing what he was sure would be bruise soon enough.

"I'm just as proper as anyone else 'round here!"

"You _punched_ me in the shoulder!"

"Leah, darling, who's your friend?"

And of course, there he was. The Grand Duke himself. Standing a meager few inches away, staring him dead in the face. _Wonderful_.

"Oh," she started slightly, looking warily at her father. "This is Jacob. He's, uh, visiting. Friend of a friend sort of thing."

"Ahhh, I see."

Awkward pause… and….

"Oh this is a beautiful song… why don't the two of you share a dance?" The man paused, looked Jacob up and down. "Assuming you know the steps?"

Maybe it was silly to accept such a subtle challenge from the man he was stealing tens of thousands of dollars from at this very second. But there was also a very beautiful girl standing so very close to him and it would have been quite the tragedy to let something that came along so very rarely slip by without a second thought. And that was his reasoning for taking her hand and pulling her quite un-gracefully out to the middle of the dance floor, where he all but yanked her into position, flush against his chest, face barely an inch away from his.

"You realize I wouldn't have danced with you had my father not made such an obvious demand, right?"

He grinned and began the steps and as soon as they picked up speed and the room started whizzing by in blurred colors and flashing lights, he heard her giggle. And then she giggled some more, and then maybe some more. And by the time the song was over they were both laughing out loud and her hair was falling from it's pins and she was pressed so comfortably into him that she didn't realize just how un-lady-like it looked to everyone else. Not that she cared, anyway.

He couldn't remember the last time he took notice in the more trivial of things. Like the soft tan of her skin that looked so much like his. Or the stubborn set of her jaw that, even when she was having a good time, made her look so out of place among these dainties. He noticed all of these tiny, insignificant things and about a thousand more before he realized that his fingers were tracing previously mentioned jaw and his other hand was still curved around the small of her back and that, yes, she was still in his face, still as a board. And he was pretty sure that her hand was fisting his shirt and her other was still clinging to his shoulder. God she was _so warm_.

She looked up, cleared her throat, and the dreamy sequence was squashed into a big fat pile of mush under her heeled shoe. He frowned.

"Thanks for the dance," she forced out hurriedly, right before she made a bee line for the punch table.

And there went mistake number four.

Why was that mistake number four? Oh! Right. Because he was now following that damn _Leah_ across the room and interrupting a conversation she was having with some guy that looked _way_ too stiff for someone like her. C'mon, his _hair_ looked like it'd been pressed.

"Uh, we were talking," she said with a fake bravado, her eyes too wide to hide the surprise.

"Yeah, well, you're not anymore."

He hadn't really expected the guy to try and stop him when he took her hand. He wasn't a conceited kind of person but, really, he was something of a sore thumb in this crowd. She'd pegged him about right with the Zorro on steroids.

"The lady and I were having a conversation," the man had said, mimicking Leah's fake confidence.

"The lady and I were having a conversation _before_ your conversation. Ever hear of first dibs? Well, that means she comes with me."

"Uh, hello! I'm right here!"

He glanced at her and rolled his eyes. "Just tell the guy."

She hesitated, and for a split second he thought she was actually going to choose this loser over him. Not that it was a competition or anything. Not that he would have cared either way. She wasn't exactly his type, right? Mouthy and arrogant. Pfft. He could have done so much better, anyway.

"Sorry, Tom. We got separated after our dance. Just give me a minute okay?"

There was _not_ a parade going on in his head because of the non-victory against his non-competition.

"What do you want?" she huffed once _Tom_ had finally walked off.

"Dance with me."

"What?" She half-yelled. "We just danced, why would you-"

"We danced because your dad made us dance… now _I_ wanna dance with you. So c'mon."

She stared at his hand like he was carrying the plague, and something in his brain was flagging, telling him to run like hell. But he waited patiently, and watched a series of expressions battle it out across her face. And even with that unsure pout still lingering in her features, her eyes still partially narrowed and her lips still pursed slightly… she took his hand and let him lead her, much more calmly than the first time, back out to the floor. And just as differently as the way the dance had begun, the act itself seemed so much easier, so much more intimate. The song was slower and for whatever reason she'd let him pull her closer and she was absolutely positive that his hand wasn't supposed to be _that_ close to her ass. She hadn't mean to relent so quickly, but her head fell to rest on his chest all the same and before she could remind herself that, no, she wasn't supposed to be enjoying this stranger so much, she was hugging him as tightly as he was hugging her.

"Why did you lie?"

His voice startled her from the girly haze that had taken over her brain. She peered up at him, raised a brow.

"When your father asked who I was," he conceded. "Why did you tell him you knew me?"

"Are you supposed to be here?"

Her question caught him off guard. Of course he wasn't, what the hell did that have to do with anything?

"You don't exactly blend, ya know. If I'd have said I didn't know you he'd have drilled you with a million questions and you'da been booted before you could blink."

He didn't feel the need to acknowledge how his cheek was pressed to her hair. Hair that smelled so much like honey and forest and _home_ it made him want to drag her out of there and take her with him. He bombed the thought before it could really take root. How ridiculous.

"I wouldn't think someone of your _status_ would care too much about someone like me getting thrown out of your father's party?"

He felt her shrug against him. "Maybe you were the only interesting thing about this stupid 'celebration'."

He smiled, then, remembering his similar thoughts about Seth. "Yeah… yeah, I know how you feel."

Maybe he'd convinced himself that it would be okay to just _forget_ about everything around him. Maybe he hadn't convinced himself but had honestly just gotten too wrapped up in how _amazing_ it felt to be so close to this girl. A girl he couldn't for the life of him understand or even begin to dissect. Really, how could he? He'd only known her for, oh, all of like twenty minutes. If that. It didn't seem logical to think that it would actually _bother_ him when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Or that he'd get irritated at seeing that fucking Tom standing there, nauseating grin and squinty eyeballs ruining his moment.

"Could I cut in?"

They stopped long enough for her to look at him, then Jacob, then back to the guy and shake her head. "Not right now, Tom."

Ah. Victory.

"C'mon Leah, just one dance, I wanted to -"

"I said not right now. Beat it."

He didn't get the chance to grin at her choice of words. Didn't really get the chance to think of anything else past, _fuck my life_, once he saw Paul's head poke through that door and he knew better than to think it'd be okay to stall any longer. He had to get out of there. Yes, he knew that. But damned if it wasn't the absolute shittiest ending to something like an amazing job.

"No," he said, halting the argument, letting his hands slide away from her. "No, it's fine. I, uh… I really should get going."

And he _really_ hadn't expected her to say anything.

"What do you mean?"

He turned back to her, raised a brow. "I gatta go…"

"Uh, you can get your ass back here and finish this dance."

He grinned, took her hands, brought one to his lips. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Leah."

He didn't look back to see how exactly that Tom character would keep her from following him. Lord knows he would have gotten creative if it'd been _him_ in that situation. There wasn't much else to do now, just help them lug the bags over the fence and then they would be home-free… wherever they decided home would be this time. When he got to the barn-storage-building-… _thing_, he wasted no time. Paul and Embry were packing up the last of the money, tossing them into a pile by the back door.

"Took ya long enough," Paul huffed, tossing him a smile. "Who was that girl?"

Embry stopped, turned to face them. "Girl?"

"There was no girl," Jacob said dismissively. "Let's get this over with."

"Oh yes there was. I saw her. She was friggin' hot. So who was she?"

Jacob didn't bother to glare at Paul, or even answer him. What was there to say? _Hey guys, I'm trippin balls over the Duke's daughter whom I've spent close to the entire night with. Oh! I met her brother too. _Yeah, right. They'd shit a brick.

"Fine," Embry grumped. "be a sour ass. I'll bet she wasn't _that_ hot, anyway."

"You'll bet _who_ wasn't that hot?"

Jacob pinched his eyes closed, pretended he was somewhere else for the moment. It was all he could do, after all. She'd friggin' followed him. Great.

Embry froze and cleared his throat. "Uh… Jake?"

Oh! Right. _Now_ they wanted him to take care of it. _Now_ they wanted him to be serious and deal with the problems. "Hey… Leah.. What are you doing?"

Paul gasped a little too dramatically. "_Leah_?" He jumped down from the hay bail he was perched on. "As in Leah Clearwater?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, so?"

He felt both of their eyes on him but didn't return the look and he nearly cringed at how bland Embry's voice sounded when he spoke.

"Really, Jacob? _Really_?"

"We ask you to man the fort for _one night_ and you get all twisted up and forget the rules? C'mon, man!"

"What rules?"

He'd taken up staring at the ceiling during their little rants and found himself wanting to just disappear when he heard the confusion in her voice. Now he gets to see the disappointment and anger and…

"What the hell are those?"

He followed the direction of her finger to the large bags stacked atop one another. Oh. Yeah. The money.

"That, _princess_, would be money," Paul snarked.

She didn't turn wide eyes on him, didn't deck him in the face as he'd expected. No, of course, she did the exact opposite of everything he'd thought she'd do. She smiled.

"I'm not dumb," she said quietly, just to him. "I pegged you as soon as I saw you."

"Wonderful," Embry said quickly, throwing a few bags over his shoulders. "Let's get out of here before the Calvary shows up."

Paul nodded his agreement, hefted several of the bags.

"Where's Quil?" Jacob asked without taking his eyes away from her.

"He's keeping an eye out over the fence, now c'mon."

"Go ahead, I'm coming."

Begrudgingly, and with not-so-subtle grunts of disapproval, they did just that and left him standing there with the last few thousand waiting to be hauled behind him.

He didn't ask her why she hadn't brought her father and all his guards along with her, didn't ask her why she followed him to begin with. He didn't really care anymore. She'd followed, and that was saying enough.

She wasn't sure how to react when he started inching towards her, or when her body started humming that unsteady tune as soon as his hand came up to her face, tucked a long curl behind her ear. She had no way of knowing just how perfect it would feel when his fingers traced down her neck, to her shoulder. He was a stranger, after all, and nobody had warned her of a stranger that would be able to melt her into a giant puddle of goo within an hour of meeting him. It was illogical to believe that it could actually be real, that she really, _truly_ felt so strongly about someone she barely knew. And still, as his lips continued to move towards her, as his breath tickled her face and his hands closed around her hips, she stayed put. Maybe leaned in a little. Maybe a lot. She felt his lips brush hers and then…..then…

"Fuck."

The clock sounded off and when it reached twelve she watched his eyes close, his shoulders slump slightly.

"Guess it's time to take the masks off," she said softly, smiling.

She slid hers up and around her forehead, tossed it to the side, and he couldn't breathe. Yes, she was beautiful and, yes, he was about to take his mask off in front of her and, yes, she was going to be the only target to have ever seen his face. And even when he did it, when he threw his away and forgot all about it, he didn't feel like it was wrong. Like he should have handled it differently. He couldn't remember anything passed how _perfect_ her lips felt against his and how, right now, he wouldn't give a crap if her father did show up and shoot him on the spot. He'd heard of it before. Of that one person that would make your life cave in on itself, make your walls come tumbling down and crush every notion of being alone and every defense you thought you'd need forever. He couldn't remember exactly who'd told him and once she pulled him tighter, kissed him a little harder, he didn't really care.

He lost himself somewhere in her touch, somewhere in the way she was raking her fingers through his hair and sending his entire outlook on life up in smoke. And when he heard someone move behind him, pulling away was probably the most painful thing he'd ever done.

"Jacob… dude we gatta get out of here. People are starting to leave."

Her eyes were about as melted as his brain and he nearly drowned under the gratification he felt seeing himself in that swirl of browns he was supposed to leave and never look into again. He thought he was doing well holding himself above the surface, keeping himself afloat considering the circumstances. And then she smiled, and he was sunk.

She made a move to look around him and he followed, turning, and both of them blanched and shielded their eyes when they found him. Jacob groaned, took a few steps back.

"Quil, man, what the hell!"

Quil looked down, shrugged. "What?"

"You're friggin' _blinding _us!" Jacob exclaimed, still keeping his hand up, close to his eyes. "I thought we discussed the costume thing?"

"I didn't _wanna_ wear black, _again_!" He whined, pulling at his sequined vest. "I'm sick of black… it's so depressing."

Exasperated with the argument that he's had with Quil since, oh, the second job, Jacob only sighs and rolls his eyes. And then decides that the universe _hates his guts_ when he hears Leah's name being called by several different voices, two of which he recognizes instantly. He pulls a face, looks at her.

"You should probably go.." she says slowly, somewhat sadly, nodding her head towards a still awaiting Quil. "They'll see him from a mile away."

He manages a slight chuckle and looks to his feet because, really, it's easier than looking at a face he knows he'll never get to see again. A face he'd actually _want_ to see again. But there's this and then there's reality and he knows better than to think that there could be anything in between. Unless…

"Come with me," he blurts, turning wide eyes on her, suddenly inspired.

She snorts, stutters slightly. "Wha- what?"

"Yeah!" Quil says with a start. "What!"

"Let's just _go_," he explains, taking her hand, tugs it towards the back door. "Nobody will realize what's happened until we're long gone."

"Jacob… I cant just leave my family behind. I mean.. what about Seth?"

"He can come too, lead him out to the gate…. I'll wait for you."

He hadn't expected much, and when she pulled her hand away, began slowly stepping away from him, he understood. There was no anger or resentment because, hello, this whole thing was crazy and he wouldn't just run off with someone after knowing them a full hour or less. Unless it was her… but then again, he had issues and there was really no telling what he'd do in the face of making a change after doing the same things for so long. And so he let her back away, didn't try to stop her. He didn't try to pretend he wasn't disappointed either and, well, she couldn't figure out what was more disturbing. The fact that he wanted her to leave with him, or the fact that, despite her performance, she actually wanted to take him up on it. And she could feel every bit of that disappointment spreading like fire through every inch of her because her reality was just as messed up as his and somehow she'd let him show her something different, something better, and neither really wanted to see it disappear.

But he did disappear. Just as quickly and as powerfully as he'd entered her life, he was gone. And that part of her that longed for something far away from this place, something exciting and spontaneous and new, crumbled under the weight of the life she knew she was being set up for. His eyes, just before he vanished behind the wall surrounding her property, were burned into her mind and no matter how hard she tried to forget them, there they were, every night, every time she closed hers. When he'd gone, she'd sworn she'd never regret declining his offer. She'd never wish she'd done it differently or that she'd gone with him because, really, how logical would that have been? How smart or how dumb or how real? She had to believe that she wouldn't hate herself for it later on.

But she did hate herself for it, three months later, when she was at the alter in front of thousands of people, looking into eyes that weren't his and saying yes to something she truly didn't want. Something that seemed even more ridiculous and dangerous than going with him would have been. And for the next several months she'd be more miserable than she'd have thought possible back then when she'd been offered a way out, a way to live and be free and maybe even happy. Her days were spent at home, watching hired help do things she never learned how to do anyway, waiting for someone else to get home so that she could hear about his day outside of this box. Because she was the trophy and he was the winner and her father had picked him because of his political ties, not because she wanted him. She despised him, and he loathed her, but nobody cared because this was how it was supposed to be. She was the pawn and he was the player and he moved and placed her where and when he liked. It was the way of their world, and she was supposed to be satisfied with it. Or at least pretend. And it was becoming increasingly difficult to do even that as the days dragged on and it became clear that he wouldn't put up with her for much longer, leaving her with no other choice but to try harder. Because shaming your family in their world was like killing a person and even though her father had never really wanted her, she just couldn't live with hurting her mother or her brother.

And eventually she lost her grip on how she felt that day, standing in her father's barn, with someone she decided was probably absolutely perfect for her. She was angry and lonely and she hated knowing her life was becoming more and more like a cage. She wouldn't really even feel alive again until a year later, taking a walk with her mother through town. She would look up from the fruit in her hand just in time to see her father's guards with a group of people marching to the jail. With Jacob at the front of the line, handcuffed. Despite the circumstances, and herself, she smiled. The first smile that actually felt _real_ since he left and she found it funny that he was the one to pull it out of her.

Her mother didn't ask questions when Leah left the market to go home early, or when she showed up, unannounced, at their home for dinner that night. She and Seth were far too pleased with her being there to ruin it with some silly questioning about something that was probably nothing, anyway. But Seth would realize later that night, when his sister was sneaking into their father's office, that maybe he _should_ have asked questions. And when the sound of the door closing behind him startled her into standing, rather than crouching, behind their father's desk, hands behind her back, his curiosity was peaked.

"Okay, what is it?"

She shook her head, pursed her lips. "What are you -"

"Don't." He held up a hand, stopping her. "Please don't lie."

Instantly, she deflated. "I.. well.." When words failed her, she just held out her hand, showed him the shiny little key sitting so small inside of her palm.

His eyes widened. "Wha -? Why are you? .. Leah, you'll get in so much trouble if he finds out, I -"

"You aren't going to tell."

It wasn't a question, and he knew that she was right, but he had to ask.

"Why wont I?"

"Because if you do I'll never forgive you. And I'll be miserable for the rest of my life. That's a long time, Seth. I don't want to spend it this way."

His mind finally caught up with what she was insinuating. What the key was for. Or rather who. "The guy, from the New Year's Eve ball." He said it so softly, she barely understood him. He looked back up at her, tilted his head. "Jacob. He and his friends stole a bunch of dad's money."

She nodded, whispered, "they brought him in today. I guess they caught him. I don't know what happened."

He seemed baffled, but was void of the anger she thought she'd receive.

"You're getting him out?"

She nodded.

"Tonight?"

Another nod.

"So I guess you'll be leaving, then?"

She hadn't quite gotten around to admitting it to herself. Or studying the details of what the after would entail. But, yes, she was leaving. With or without Jacob, she had to get out of here, and maybe it was hard for her to swallow but leaving without him just didn't seem as fulfilling. And when she arrived at the jail at almost midnight, she wasn't surprised to find that not only had Seth not told, but had followed, bag in hand, a smile on his face.

"I need to see one of your prisoners. I was a witness to one of his crimes, my father asked me to be sure his was the face I remember."

The guard nodded, a little unsure, and opened the door, pointing her in the direction of the cells. She pressed a hand tightly to her stomach upon reaching his, steeling herself for what came next. And when his eyes lifted, recognized her face, she was disappointed to find that he didn't feel the need to stand.

"What are you doing here?"

She sniffed, shifted slightly. "Well.. I heard you got arrested.. Thought I'd come see how they were treating you down here."

He snorted. "Probably the same way they treat everyone else."

His head, rested back against the wall, snapped to face her when he heard the key move in the lock, heard the click that his brain automatically related to freedom.

"What the hell are you doing?" He half-yelled, standing up and moving to the door. "Where the hell did you get a key?"

She rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding?" Her finger poked to her chest. "Duke's daughter, here. He kinda has access to everything."

And there it was, the smile he'd been dreaming about for over a year, bright as the day he first saw it. When the door creaked open, he raised a brow, shook his head slightly.

"So why are you busting me out, again?"

"Because I made a mistake," she nearly pouted, looking anywhere but at him.

He closed the door slowly, cleared his throat in waiting.

"Ugh! Do I have to explain everything to you?" She huffed, took his hand and started moving back towards the entrance. "I should have went with you, alright?"

He laughed, she punched, and all was right in the world once more.

When they reached the front door, the guard was laying flat on his back, a small trickle of blood running from his nose. And when they asked Seth on the way out what happened, he'd only shrugged and said it was necessary. She hadn't felt bad about stealing the car, or about lifting the money from the car lot. She'd been pretty impressed with all the ways to disarm an alarm and how quickly Jacob could pick a lock and then lock it back when he was finished. Breaking into a clothes store had been pretty amusing what with Jacob and Seth's obvious discomfort with being _in_ a woman's clothing store, and she'd made it in and out in what Jacob claimed was 'record time'. So leaving hadn't been a problem for any of them and she'd maybe snagged a few things that weren't exactly needed once she got over the initial,_ this is so wrong_, mind-state.

She couldn't say that she wasn't upset about not being able to say goodbye to her mother, that she wouldn't miss her like crazy or that she wouldn't want to come back and visit. But she knew it was for the best.

"You okay?"

Her eyes opened, glanced over his face that was hovering above her, reveled in how softly his fingers were tracing that spot behind her ear. "How did you get caught, anyway?"

He froze, his face hardened. "I don't wanna talk about it."

Her laugh was contagious and Jacob could only glare at Seth, laughing from the driver's seat, as he sunk into his and took on a pout.

"Oh, c'mon," she said through dying chuckles. "What happened?"

"Quil."

And that was all he had to say because they both knew that the kid had a thing for bright colors and it was only a matter of time before he got them in trouble.

They ditched the car somewhere before they reached the shore and let their other halves take over for the rest of the trip. He'd known from the get-go, after all, that she was just like him. He could feel it in her presence, smell it on her skin. Like she'd said, she pegged him from the start. And so they ran, caught up with the others, refrained from beating Quil to death since, frustrating as it was, they couldn't deny he'd had a hand in their reuniting. And the next time she'd have to attend an unbelievably boring ball and pretend to be something she wasn't, she'd be dressed as Zorro and, this time, _she'd_ be in charge of distraction because, well, let's face it; Jacob didn't exactly have a wonderful track record.

Eventually, he'd show her his home. His real home. A place he'd spent his entire childhood, his first hundred years as an adult. The place where he'd lost everything over and over again until he just couldn't deal with it anymore. She understood, because she and Seth, well, they were just as alone, just as worn out. They'd moved from family to family, learning to do what they were told so that they could survive. Rich families were always the best, and they'd been with Harry, The Grand Duke, for five years. The longest they'd ever stayed in one place. Seth was Harry's pride and joy, the son he never had, and Leah was Sue's beautiful little Doll. That's all they ever were to these people. Fill ins for what their own children would have been had they been able to conceive. But it was alright, because they had to survive, and making it on their own had been too cut throat at eleven and thirteen. So they learned, just like Jacob and Embry and Paul and Quil, to take the road they knew best. For the four of them, it had been laying low, taking what they needed and eventually what they wanted. For Leah and Seth, it had been pretend. They were the best at being someone else, and had learned all too quickly how to play people for all they were worth.

And, in the end, they'd find it best to just leave the past where it was. Because no matter how easy things got with the added company, with everything she added to his life and he added to hers, all of those memories would remain sharp and painful and no amount of love or company or even happiness could ever dull it. But all of them together, well, they make a good team, even Paul can admit that. And despite the new working arrangements and, for Quil, the _matching_ costumes, the strange little thing they have going somehow starts to feel right. Like they're _supposed_ to be that way. They all look to Jacob and Jacob looks to Leah and life, although strange and never dull, winds up being as close to perfect as it has been since they left home.

And for Jacob, Leah _is_ perfect, and the next hundred years, or two hundred or three, will be time well spent.

.

**a/n. Sooo, there's Ball. :) Again, thank you all for reading. Reviews are lovely. **


	3. C is for Camp

**C is for Camp**

**Rated: T**

Jacob always assumed that everyone has a favorite everything. Favorite color, favorite song, favorite food. Even those people that try that whole 'open minded' business couldn't deny that there was always something that swayed them a _little_ more, a _little_ easier, in it's direction. Maybe they liked baseball, but in the end, football was the other half of their soul. He figured the same could be said for a season. Some preferred the Winter. The white sports, the holidays. Others were most comfortable with the in-betweens, spring and fall, with their not-to-hot, not-to-cold, averages. He didn't really have any complaints about any of them. Nothing that he absolutely hated or couldn't tolerate. But, in the end, it was summer that he always looked forward to.

He enjoyed the stifling heat. The inevitable sweat and the backyard football and the months off from school. Of course, this was his last year so it wouldn't matter, anyway. He looked forward to the family get-togethers, trips to the local pool, camping for days until they got sick of roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. It was always the same, yet, always intriguingly different. They never got bored, never lost interest in the things they did _all the time_. Discovering girls did a number on their prank-pulling agendas but, then again, girls were more interesting anyway so who cared?

Out of all these things, though, there was always that _one_ trip that left his palms sweaty and sent his stomach into raging fits. The annual Clearwater-Black fishing trip. Fishing trip for Billy and Harry, anyway. He and Rebecca and Rachel, Seth and Leah, well, they didn't much care for all that. It was more about the swimming and the exploring and time spent with the local kids they'd been friends with since the first summer they went. Of course, the year the girls they hung out with started wearing bikinis, he and Seth's agendas changed completely. It put quite the damper on his relationship with Leah, and Seth's with Rachel and Rebecca. They found it, how had they worded it?.. 'offensive'? They shrugged it off, of course, like they always did because they had been sixteen and what the hell were sixteen year old boys supposed to do when put in front of skimpy-ass-bikinis? Exactly.

He'd turned eighteen the week before Christmas this year, Seth a week or two after Easter. Rachel and Rebecca graduated the year before and apparently didn't care much for their yearly getaway anymore 'cause they had no issue telling Billy they weren't going to make it. Some stupid shit about touring colleges and figuring out their classes. As if they hadn't already had a year to do all that. As it was every year, Leah's birthday would be celebrated while they were at the lake, seeing as her birthday always fell sometime during the two weeks they were there, and he was begrudgingly forcing himself into another girly-ass store to find her a gift.

"What about this?"

Jacob peered around the isle, raised a brow. "Seriously, Seth?"

"What? You don't think she'd like it?"

He gave the horrid tie-dye shirt a disgusted once over and tried to avoid letting his eyes linger too long on the god-awful dog portrait in the front. "I think she'd burn it." He nodded. "Immediately after receiving it."

"Behind my back, or in front of me?"

"It'd be a national holiday."

"I'll just put this back."

Jacob grinned. "Please do."

It was the fifth store they'd been in, the third hour they'd devoted to the gift, and Jacob's nerves were just about shot. "I give up," he growled. "I'm just gonna make her something."

Seth laughed. "_Make_ her something? Like what?" He ran to catch up to his much-larger friend.

"I dunno. A.. - picture frame or something."

Seth didn't stop laughing until they reached Jacob's house, and only lessened once they approached the loaded down van.

"I really hope you were kidding."

"About?"

"Oh, I dunno, about making my sister a _picture frame_ for her birthday!" He stopped walking, put a finger under his chin. "On second thought, make it. That way I wont give her the dumbest gift this year. I've held the title for far too long, I feel it's time I pass it down."

Jacob scowled, shoved the last of the coolers in the back and shut the door. "I hate you sometimes."

"Oh but it would be priceless. She's always going on about how _thoughtful_ you are. It makes me sick and I think it's high time you take some of the stupid gift giving off my back. I thought this was a partnership? I catch all the slack and you get goo-goo eyes, how is that fair?"

Between elbowing Seth in the ribs, pushing him in an attempt to somehow make the back seat larger, and the over-dramatic punching; Jacob managed, "goo-goo eyes? What are you talking about?"

"Oh don't give me that," he grunted after they finally reached a comfortable median. "You know she's like all gaga over you. Has been since we were little."

"You're so full of shit," Jacob bit out, rolling his eyes. "She's.. we're not like that. It's never been like that."

"Rigghtttt…"

"Alright boys," Billy broke the conversation, climbing in the drivers side. "No killing each other until _after_ we reach our destination, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah," they both mumbled.

Jacob had nearly forgotten that they'd all be riding together this year. Without Rachel and Rebecca, and the fact that none of them had brought along any friends this year, they had plenty of room. He couldn't help but watch Leah when she climbed in, couldn't help but smile when she spotted him, when she made Seth move and wedged herself between them. It was pretty instantaneous; noticing how different she was. And he wished he hadn't. 'Cause those cut off shorts with all those little frays and holes, not to mention that tank top that covered scant to nothing, well, it didn't leave much to the imagination. He suddenly remembered that he'd have to endure _another _summer of her running around in her bikini.

Life is tough.

"Soooo," he heard her drawl to Seth. "What did you get me for my birthday, big brother?"

Seth snorts. "Nothing, sister dear," and he's smiling that shit eating smile of his. "absolutely nothingggg."

Jacob knows the smack is coming before she makes contact, but he grins at Seth's howl of pain all the same.

Life is good.

"So, kids," Billy interrupts, glancing in the rearview. "Who wants to play a game?"

"Oh! How about I Spy?"

Seth and Leah glare at Harry, a scary scene. "Really dad? I Spy?"

"What? We always play I Spy!"

"Yeah, and we also used to drink from a bottle and suck on passies," Seth mumbles, rolls his eyes. "Eighteen, pops, not four."

Harry frowns, folds his arms, and Jacob thinks he looks a lot like a child, pouting. "Fine then. You kids entertain yourselves. But don't come whining to me when you get bored and cant think of anything to do!"

Jacob chances a look at Leah's face, starts when he finds her already staring a hole through his head. "What?"

"Heard you were up for a scholarship, for football?"

"Yeah, uh, couple of colleges have been calling. . . Haven't really put much thought into it yet."

"I think that's great," and she sounds pretty genuine. "You're only like the best quarter back our school's ever had, it makes sense that you'd have people scouting you."

Seth's head moves into view, around Leah's shoulder, and he's making the most nauseating kissy face Jacob's ever seen.

"Yeah, well, ya know," he's mumbling, unsure of what to say, scratching nervously at the back of his head. "I'm not. . - I'm not _that_ good. . . - just in good shape, is all."

_Oh Jacob, I love you soooo much_, Seth's stupid lips are mouthing, fingers twirling exaggeratedly at hair he doesn't have. _you're so dreamy with your hunky arms and _-

Jacob pulls his attention back to Leah, staring curiously at him, before Seth can finish his mimicry.

"Since when are _you _modest?" she's asking, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Are you alright?"

_Ohhhh Jacob, don't go to college, I'll miss you soooo much, please don't leave me!_

Seth's too busy batting his eyelashes and cooing dramatically at the ceiling to notice the full, unopened can of soda hurtling towards his head. Unfortunately, Seth's head is hard as a rock, and said can collapses in on itself upon impact, splattering all three of them with warm, fuzzy liquid.

"What the _hell_ was that about?" Leah asks through pursed lips, eyes pinched closed, foam and brown, syrupy _crud_ running down her face.

Jacob blows a bit of air. . .well, _mist_, and can only manage a shrug. "Seth," he mumbles, turning to sit straight, head falling back to the rest. "I _really_ hate you."

He ignores his friend's laughter and doesn't answer the next time Leah tries to start up a conversation. This car ride needed to be over. Bad enough that she was barely wearing any clothes, now she was all sticky and wet. His resolve wasn't _that_ strong. Best friend's sister or not, he was still a guy, had been for a while last he checked, and he's done _very_ well keeping his hands and thoughts to himself. He's never even mentioned Leah to Seth, and that's probably why the dumb ass felt there was no harm in joking about the two of them. Maybe being respectful had been a mistake. Maybe next time he'll just be like Paul and ogle her until she was creeped out, bet Seth wouldn't joke so much then, huh?

"We're here!"

Jacob's eyes open and sleep lingers for a good ten minutes before he can actually move, and even so, the remnants of his brilliant can flinging venture make doing anything an irritating notion. His shirt collar sticks to his neck, his sleeves to his arms, his hair to his forehead. His shorts are soaked through and he can feel it all over his thighs, down his shins.

"We're gonna go check in with the Warden," Billy announces, already outside the car, stretching animatedly. "We'll worry about unloading in a bit. Give you guys a chance to get. . .cleaned up." The man's grin is infuriating.

"Whatever," Jacob grumbles, pulling himself up and towards the sliding door. He looks back at Leah, sleeping soundly, and squishes the urge to wake her up. Let him get his mind back on the right track. "I'm gonna get some air," he tells Seth, and the guy only nods, half asleep.

When he's safely outside, _away_ from legs and skin and those eyes. . . .

He blinks. Not helping.

There's a small moment when he's just standing, staring out at the lake, mind rolling around absolutely nothing - and he thinks it's the most peaceful he's been since. . .well, probably since he was like eleven and had no concept of the female anatomy. That was before Seth had discovered the same things and become the bane of his existence. So, yeah, around ten or eleven. He rolls his eyes up, takes in the baby blue of the sky, the white clouds speckled here and there. Such a clear day, and _hot_, God was it hot. The realization makes him squirm under the feeling, the rays beating down on him and the sandy gravel, and his collar starts to rub again, sticky and disgusting. His shirt is off without a second thought and he's kicking his shoes away, his socks, and it's when he turns for the van to find himself a new pair of shorts that he sees her stirring, moving towards the still-open door.

"Hey," she says softly, still a little groggy with sleep, a small, sweet smile. "Sticky, huh?"

He glances over at his shirt, lying boneless on the ground, now sticky _and_ covered with dirt. Sigh through barely parted lips. "Yeah. . . - guess I wasn't really thinking about the can busting. ." he smiles, shrugs. "I forget how hard his head is."

She laughs, an easy sound. "It's cool," she says breezily, pulling her hair away from her shoulders. "I live with him, remember? Kinda know how annoying he gets."

"Yep."

The silence is thick, at least to him, and when she starts to move towards him, he feels like a mouse in a dragon's den, trapped and uncomfortable and _small_. Her forehead doesn't even meet his chin, but when she stops in front of him, she seems like she's ten foot tall, hovering over him, calculating, something glittering under the caramels of her eyes that puts him on edge, makes him nervous.

"We should start unloading," he says quickly, quietly. "Rather do it myself than wait till' Harry and Billy are barking orders. ."

She tilts her head a little, raises a brow. "I don't have a disease, you know," she says, quieter than he'd spoken before. "You don't have to run every time I get close."

Yeah right, what did she know? He's the one that was being put under the lamp here, not her. Best friend's sister all hot and half naked and _there_. Didn't anyone understand the level of restraint he'd been working over the past two or three years? He seriously doubted it, and it's annoying to think that his efforts go unappreciated.

But there's something a little soft about the way she shifts to her other leg, a little self conscious with the way she looks away, lets her chin drop to her chest. She's always the pushy one, the loud one, that person that's in your face all the time with things that will _surely_ make you uncomfortable, but doesn't really care 'cause you'll probably agree with her in the end. It's not right seeing her unsure.

He caves _way_ too easy. "I'm not running from you, Leah," and he laughs like the idea is ridiculous.

"Seems like it. Every time I come around you take off in the other direction."

Is she. . ._pouting_?

"You're being silly," he brushes it off, folds his arms across his chest. "The only time I really see you is passing by at school or whatever, and now, of course."

She seems unconvinced. "Give me a hug, then."

"Wha -" his eye snap to her, hands dropping to his sides. "- what do you. . . - a hug?"

"You used to hug me all the time, and then all of a sudden, you stopped. We used to play and tickle and you'd put your arm around me whenever you saw me, and now, like I said, you run every time I come around. You look like you're about to have an aneurism right now, just at the _mention_ of touching me."

He stares, 'cause what the hell is he supposed to do now? Who'd have thought she'd actually confront him about his no-touch-rule? Not him, 'cause he hadn't even considered her noticing, let alone _saying_ something.

"I . . . - well, we should . . -"

"- Give me a hug, Jake," she says slowly, and it's a little scary.

"Are you really trying to _force_ me into a hug?" n' there's a bit of amusement there, somewhere. "Didn't know it meant so much to you," and he's trying to joke, make light of the situation, but she's smiling, and he's nervous again.

She's moving towards him slowly, and his brain is red flagging, telling him to _friggin' run_, but he stays put because that tank top rides just a little too low and there's only so many things he can say no to. Cleavage isn't one of those things. So he has a few weaknesses. . . .

"C'mon," she says sweetly, smiling. "Just one hug."

He doesn't mean for the sigh to come out so loud, or for his eyes to roll and his shoulders to droop, but they do, and he can see it as soon as the thought crosses her mind, and regrets it when she starts to backtrack.

"I mean if it's that much of a damn chore, just forget I said anything," and she's huffing, starting to turn away, a bit of a catch in the way she avoids looking at him.

And he feels like _shit_, because he's only been doing this to make sure she doesn't think he's like Paul or Sam or one of those other jerks she goes on about all the time, so Seth doesn't explode on him for thinking of his sister as something other than just a kid. That's how it used to be, after all. She was their annoying little tag along that wouldn't go away no matter how hard they teased her or how mean they got. Of course, she changed not long after they did, and things just haven't been the same since. Seth, being her brother, couldn't really understand that.

And so, against his better judgment, he caught her hand before she could move too far away and he pulled her flush against him, tighter than was probably necessary, closer than was probably acceptable - but it felt good. Felt like he imagined it would, like he believed it _should_. And she only struggled for a minute before she gave in and hugged him back; arms wrapping around his waist, head resting against his chest. His fingers meet bare skin where the tank has risen up her back, and he pushes it a little farther, lays palms flat against her back and presses his lips to her hair. _Just_ because she asked him to. No other reasoning or thought applies.

She smells like vanilla and he's breathing her in without really noticing, eyes closing against the glare of the sun off of creamy black hair, fingers tracing an expanse of flesh he never thought he'd get close enough to feel. He feels her smile against his chest.

"Is this so bad?"

When she looks up at him he cant help but smile, shake his head a little dreamily, agreeing with whatever she's saying, 'cause his mind is pretty much melted.

"Ahem. ."

He blinks, looks over her head at a frowny Seth.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

She pulls away and shrugs at Seth, tossing a smile back at Jacob before she opens the back of the van, starts to unload their things. He watches Seth watch him and the whole thing is a little weird, a little uncomfortable. But it's broken when Harry's voice comes over the hill, just loud enough to grab Seth's attention and give him the opportunity to run.

"I thought since we had a cabin last year," Harry is saying behind them, looking through the park map like he's never seen it before. "we'd go pioneer this year, reunite with nature, find peace within the -"

"- Sounds great," Leah says swiftly, brushing passed him and towards the trail to the camp sites. "I'll meet you guys there."

And Jacob doesn't miss the grin she throws over her shoulder, or the suspicious way that her hips sway just a little more provocatively. . . Okay, so maybe that hug got to his head. Which is a perfect example of why he's avoided doing anything even _remotely_ close to touching her.

"See," he hears Seth mumble behind him as they heft their bags up the trail to their slots. "Goo-goo eyes." He huffs a little from the exertion. "_Goo-goo eyes_?" he mocks quietly, voice high pitched and annoyed. "_No way, we're not like that. Never have been. . . Blah, blah, BLAH!"_

Jacob casts a glance over his shoulder, winces when he finds Seth glaring at him.

"Right!" Harry claps, smiling. "Let's get the sleeping arrangements figured out."

Jacob closes his eyes and prays to be as far from Leah as possible.

.

Next door.

Of all campsites, cabins, ditches. . . .dark holes. . . - they put him right beside her.

He begins to wonder if his father and Harry actually hate him, and are doing this in hopes that Seth will do away with him for good. Visions of Seth wielding a dirty shovel, standing above him in the rain, begin to cloud his mind. Actually, it's quite vivid, and he can smell the forest and the grass and hear the shovel being pushed into his future grave, lifted, the thud of unearthed dirt smacking ground somewhere to the side as Seth digs deeper, and deeper. . . .and deeper. . .

"Hey, Jake," and her voice forces his eyes closed, 'cause she's going to get him killed. "I'm going swimming before dinner. . . Wanna come?"

"Uhh. ." he thinks he sounds a lot like a pubescent child with the way his voice raises a few octaves, the nervous way that he's got his hands clasped in front of him, eyes a little wider than usual. "I mean. . - they're already cooking, so we really wont have much time, and I -"

"Don't be a chicken," she says flippantly, pulling the tent flap open a little farther. "We don't have a curfew for dinner. I'm sure they'll be alright with us coming back a _little_ late."

He hates the challenge, hates knowing that if he says no, she'll probably make fun of him until the day he dies. . .maybe even go so far as to tell their friends that he's some kind of stuck up prude that's afraid to go swimming with a half naked girl. . .god. . Paul would never let him live that down. .

"Fine," he grumps, following behind her as she heads for the lake. "But I'm hungry, so we're not going to far."

"'Course not," and she's smiling that weird little smile, peeking at him over her shoulder.

Shoulder that actually keeps his attention with the way the strap of her tank top slides down her arm, leaving so much open, bare, _beautiful_ skin to get his mind wandering back to their hug earlier. A hug that never should have happened.

_Shouldn't have_, because he knows that in a few minutes she'll discard that tank top and those ass-bearing shorts and all that'll be left is the Devil in material form. Probably some neon color, or black, something that makes her skin look like something he could actually taste, and something he'd happily die to obtain. And then she'll get in the water and she'll get all wet and . . .

"You comin'?"

He blinks, glances at the water glimmering behind her. The sun is going down; oranges and pinks and reds. He wants to take a hammer to it, because the colors dance across her hair and skin and she looks fucking _magnificent_. He's a good guy. . .he doesn't deserve this shit. . .

"Yes, Leah," he grumbles, pulling his shirt over his head, "I'm coming."

When he tosses it to the dock, he's struck by an odd sense of trepidation. One, because he's now half naked. Two, because she's pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it over to his, and she's watching him the whole time with a weird little look and it's unnerving him to his flustered friggin' core. Her hands stop at the hem of those wannabe shorts and she's still staring at him, brow raised, lips pressed into a telling line. His head tilts a little, because. . .is she nervous?

"This was your idea," he says bluntly, eyeing the way her fingers start to slide under the elastic material.

"And?"

His brow raises, but he says nothing, a little interested in how long she's dragging this out. They've seen each other in a bathing suit a million times. .what's the big deal?

Then again, he hasn't been all that excited about seeing it again, for reasons he'd _never_ mention aloud, and he's pretty sure that, for completely _different_ reasons, she feels the same way. They're older, _she's _older, and he supposes that makes things a bit more complicated in the sense of being mostly bare.

"Ready?"

His eyes lift from that spot on the dock he took to staring at in wait of her strip tease to be over, and she's turned, walking slowly to the edge of the water. The sight of her back sets his hands on fire, with the thought that mere hours ago, his palms were pressed right _there_, and she felt so damn good. And what kind of bathing suit bottoms are those, anyway? Do they cover _anything_?

"I guess," and he's as unsure as he sounds, following her into the water, shivering a little at the contact. "So where are we going?"

She tosses a smirk at him over her shoulder, swimming just a little ahead of him. "You'll see."

It makes him uncomfortable - not knowing. Though there's really very few things he has to be afraid of, given the company he's in. Other than how painfully close her legs are to his while they swim across the open lake, how they keep brushing against him every so often, how she only seems to be getting closer. . .oh, and that he hadn't remembered to invite Seth along on this little journey. . . . -

- Lightening in the sky, a grave dug out and waiting for him, Seth looming overhead, eyes narrowed. . .

"Not much further," she says a little breathlessly, their 'short swim' having turned into a friggin' marathon. "It's up here on the right."

"Gee," he grumbles, moving so that he's a little ahead, "and I was hoping this would never end."

She glares a little, but he ignores her, a little too tired to do anything other than get to the damn shore.

And, to his greatest annoyance, this shore, looks exactly like _that_ shore, and every one they've passed on the way here. "What's so special about this one?"

She frowns a little. "Well. . .I found this spot last year. .I think it's this way."

He drops to the mud, water splashing out from under his ass upon impact. "You _think_?"

"They all look the same, asshole, I just need to figure out where I'm at."

He watches her shuffle through the ankle high water and trudge her way up the small embankment, squeezing water from her hair as she looks around.

"Sooo. . ." he drawls, leaning back on his forearms, elbows sunk into the ground. "How's it lookin'?"

He takes her silence as a damning conformation. "So, lemme get this straight. . ." he stands, stretches a little. "You wanted to show me this place . ." she nods ". . but you didn't quite remember where it was. .so we just swam blind. .and are currently at an unknown location?"

She shrugs and shifts sheepishly, refusing to look at him when she finally answers. "I thought it was this one. ."

His head ducks a little, trying to catch her eye, his face a crumpled, infuriating vision of sarcasm. "Andddd. . . Is it?"

"No," she huffs, turning away from him. "But I bet we could backtrack. We didn't really make any turns when we were swimming over here. . . It shouldn't be too hard to -"

"It's dark, Leah," he says a little softer, turning his attention away from her and to the woods at his back. "We'll have to walk."

"But it really wouldn't take that long if we -"

"- Do you really want to get in the water now? It's black, cant see a thing. We'd be more likely to end up thirty miles upstream than back at the camp. C'mon, we'll just follow the shore line."

She hesitates, glances longingly back at the water. . .until it begins to ripple and, despite her squinting and mental demands to just _see_, whatever it is that's under the water is hidden from her. . .and Jacob was right, she's not getting back in there.

"Wait up!" she hisses, tip toeing around the drift wood and rocks and shells to where he's walking, his eyes lifting and falling and searching for something familiar.

The walk is . . - _horrible_.

He's barefoot and cold and, oh my _god_, he's starving. The wind is only picking up and he swears he hears thunder somewhere not-so-distant. If it rains, he really wont be surprised.

"Are you gonna be silent the whole way?" she grumps, annoyed, smacking at thigh-high branches and kicking at briar patches that absolutely refuse to release her calves.

But through the annoyance, he catches the slight urgency, and he knows she's a little nervous. It's getting darker by the minute, and the woods are a bit eerie, if you let those sort of things bother you. Which, for Leah, Daddy's girl and Baby Sister to the core, isn't a far feat. Despite her temper and undeniable ability to watch out for herself, dark woods and tree monsters are still a frightening improbability that she, even in her maturing age, cannot escape.

And so he puts a little effort into sounding a little less annoyed than he actually is. "Sorry, Lee," he says into the blackness ahead, hands held out in front of him, warding off limbs and leaves. "Just tryin' to figure a way out of here."

He feels her palm press against his side, just under his arm, and he pauses for a second, casts eyes down to the top of her head. "You okay?"

She's tense; he tries not to smile.

"Yes," she says blandly, nails starting to dig into his skin. "It's just too damn dark, I cant see anything. I keep tripping and stepping on shit."

He bites down the first response that comes to mind, settles for a small grunt, and finally gathers enough courage to take that damned hand _away_ from the now-raw-skin on his side and clasps it tightly in his. "Follow me. . .just stay close."

There's a long while where they don't say anything. What's there to say? He cant honestly say that he's confident in his ability to find his way back to camp in the dark, and she's starting to shiver beneath the cool breeze and her still wet bathing suit, even huddled close into his back. He finds that his feet are beginning to burn with cuts from the various cones and bark and twigs and thorns he continues to step on, and he's sure hers feel the same. It's all a bit overwhelming for his mind that keeps going back to the dinner he left behind and the nice warm sleeping bag he knows is waiting for him inside the shelter of his tent. And even so, despite his own misery, he feels a sharp pang thinking of how much worse it must be for her. No, she's not weak by any means, but this does suck, and if it's this bad for him, he knows she must feel wretched. She's a chick after all, upbringing aside, she's still pretty into that pampering stuff, and this is far from anything of the like.

"I'm tired," she finally admits into the silence, sounding a lot like he feels. "Can we stop for a minute?"

He starts to refuse, the drive to get back and eat and be comfortable again nearly overriding the fact that she's probably just as tired as he is, if not more so, and the thirty times she's complained about her feet. But when she takes her hand back, plops down beside a large tree trunk, he cant even begin to move on without her. Or to tell her he would - it'd just be a waste of breath.

"You alright?" he asks, sitting down next to her, elbows rested on his knees.

"I guess."

He glances at her silhouette, the only thing he can see, and frowns. She's tucked into her legs, arms huddled around the insides of her knees, face pressed into her thighs. He's not used to seeing her so down, and even in such shitty conditions, cant figure a way to deal with it. He's good at football - bad with this mushy stuff.

"It's pretty nice out here," he says after a few moments, grinning when she looks up at him. "And to be lost, I cant say it's all that bad."

She chuckles. "Yeah, right. Bet you'd kill to be back at camp with Seth."

It occurs to him, after recognizing the uncertainty in her voice, that perhaps she'd done this just to spend a little time with him. Get him away from Seth and his dad and hers, maybe have a few hours to themselves. He hadn't thought of it before, not because he's opposed to the idea, just because he'd never thought she felt that close to him. Never thought they were on those sort of terms.

But then he'd never been all that great with reading between the lines.

"Why'd you ask me to come out here?" he asks quietly, taking a sudden interest in his knuckles.

She shrugs, uncomfortable. "Just wanted to hang out, I guess."

"We could have hung out back at -"

"- no we couldn't," she snaps before he can finish, pulling her legs a little tighter against her. "I would have tried and you would have avoided me until I finally just stopped. 'Cause you're afraid that Seth would assume you're moving in on me, and I don't like looking like the dorky little sister, pining for her brother's best friend's attention."

He glances at her, a brow raised. "We hang out every time we come on these trips. We go swimming and hiking and -"

"- and Seth is always with us, or one of our dads. You make sure of that. You barely look at me if we're by ourselves, and if you do, it's when you're saying '_I'm gonna go see what Seth's doing. . . See ya later'_ and then you're off again, avoiding me until we're stuck together again. I'm not stupid, ya know."

He stares at her because. . .what the fuck? He doesn't avoid her like _that_. It's not. . .but then it _is_ like that because she's right to a certain extent. He doesn't like to be alone with her because it's become increasingly hard to avoid the fact that she's grown, and she's beautiful, and she's not that goofy kid with glasses that she was when they were eleven. She's grown into this. . ._gorgeous_ girl and he's obviously well aware of it. Hence the avoidance. . .

He'd never thought about how it must look to her.

"I don't avoid you because I don't wanna hang out with you," he says very slowly, as if the words may actually bite while coming out. "It's not like that at all. I've always loved hanging out with you."

She snorts. "Yeah, and you used to be a lot better at showing it, too." There's a pause, and she sighs. "Sometimes I think you liked me better when I looked like a dweeb. It doesn't make sense, considering that back then, I thought I'd have to look like those other girls for you to pay attention to me the way you did them."

His eyes are wide when he chances a look at her, well aware that she probably cant see him. "What are you -"

"Seth used to pick at me," she continues on, ignoring him. "because he knew that I liked you. He'd make my life a nightmare before these trips because I'd get so excited about spending time with you and Billy." She smiles, reminiscing. "We fought all the time because he never would let up, and I always wondered why he teased me about you, but would get mad if Paul so much as _looked_ at me. I thought it was because you were his best friend, and he knew you would never do that, but then when we would hang out and you'd hug me and play with me and show me so much attention, I thought it had to be something else."

He swallows a thick lump, shifts a bit. "Did you ever figure it out?"

"Yeah." She smiles up at the moon, eyes twinkling under the blue of the sky. "It was simple, really. He didn't care because you _are_ his best friend, and he trusts you. Even if you did cross that line with me, he honestly believed that you would be better for me than those other guys."

Jacob lets the silence blanket them once again because, honestly, what is he supposed to say? She just called him out on everything, even the Seth portion of it, and he finds that she's just stomped every reason he'd had for steering clear of her. She was off limits, the best friend's little sister - _was_ . . . So what now? It's that horrifying moment when you realize that there's really nothing stopping you, and that maybe you've been hiding behind all those reasons - and now she's looking at you and she's expecting something and you honestly have no clue how to even begin. This is _Leah_, for Chrissakes. Not this girl or that girl or someone he's seen around. She's that girl he's spent every summer with for as long as he can remember, fallen together, laughed together, played and done homework and gotten in trouble together. She understands him better than anyone, really _knows_ him, and here he is, sunken in the mud beside her in the dark of the forest, tongue tied into a horribly painful knot.

"I don't expect you to say anything," she admits quietly, eyes downcast. "It's just something I've been holding onto since I was a kid. Just a stupid crush," she mumbles irritably, toe digging into the dirt. "I know that we're older, and you've got all your little girlfriends. . . I'm not like them," and she sounds a little defeated, a little sad. "I know that. So you don't have to tell me, don't have to explain it. I just wanted to get it out there."

He's a little dumbfounded by the confession, but the idea of her being any different unties his tongue rather quickly. "Why would you _want_ to be like them?"

She shrugs, feigning disinterest. "That's what you guys like. You and my brother and all your friends always talk about the cheerleaders and -"

"So?"

She blinks at him. "So. . . I thought that -"

"- That I'd want to be with some brain-dead, ditz? Please," he scoffs, scooting until their shoulders are flush. "I'd rather eat my toe than be stuck with one of them for more time than it takes to get dressed out and leave the locker room."

She's confused, shows it in the fidgeting of her fingers and gathering of her brows. "But you always talk about them with the guys. All of you flirt with them and -"

"- And yet we're all still single or dating someone else," he argues easily, suddenly inspired by all this admission. "You really think they'd turn us down if we were interested?" and he's pulling a face, brows wriggling humorously.

He loves the sound of her laugh.

"You're pretty full of yourself, Black."

He's laughing with her after a moment, and his fingers are threading through hers before he can think better of it. "No, I just know what's good for me, and what's easy. They're easy," he says a little stiffly, not really happy with how it sounds. "But they aren't what I need. I need someone that's fun, someone that makes things light, someone that's happy and outgoing and full of energy. I'd rather have a girl that will jump in a dirty lake with me than one that wants to go out to the movies and dinner every weekend."

She's watching their hands, softly twined together atop her thigh. "You barely talk to me now," she accuses softly, a little self-conscious beneath the implications his words carry. "You hardly even say hello."

He sighs, pulls up whatever courage he's got left after all he's said. "I didn't want Seth to think I liked you."

The smile on her face makes him wanna walk away, 'cause how embarrassing is this?

"It's hard to believe that _you_ are scared of my brother."

"I'm not _scared_ of him," he defends weakly, turning his head to her, just realizing how close they are. He lets out a short breath. "We've just been friends for a really long time. . .I don't wanna mess with that, ya know?"

She nods, a soft smile. "Yeah, I do."

And, alright, maybe he'd kind of lost grip on his noble notions - maybe she just looked too damn enticing under the soft glow of the moon, shadowed and softened beneath the canopy of the forest, either way, her lips seemed to glow, seemed to be speaking in a language all their own. He knows, 'cause he sees them quirk a little when he leans in, when his hand lets go of hers and he's slowly, ever so slowly, moving over her, letting her lean back against that tree trunk. And then she's under him, and it's the most invigorating, _frightening_, thing he's ever seen - all that skin, burning such a bright shade of caramel, the black and pink of her bathing suit overshadowed by everything he's been forcing himself to ignore. And, in a moment of pure, unadulterated weakness, he lets his fingers fall to the seemingly endless expanse of her stomach, trace crooked lines up, up, up. . .

She's breathing hard; he can hear it.

He can hear her heart starting to beat faster than it was before, sees her eyes fall closed when he reaches the bunched material of bathing suit between her breasts. It's amazing, just how enticing she is. And still; he refrains.

He doesn't touch the cups of the bathing suit, moves right over them to her chest, then her neck, and then his lips are only millimeters away from hers, and he can almost _taste_ her mouth, warm breath washing over his face. "You should have said something," he whispers to her chin, a soft kiss pressed to her jaw. "You should have told me sooner."

Her hands are sliding up his stomach, wrapping around his sides, feeling every inch of exposed flesh. "I could say the same thing to you."

He grins, rests his forearms on either side of her head, and his eyes are falling closed as her small fingers glide over his abs again, trace the V all the way to his shorts, and back up. "I wish I would have."

Her lips are warm against his cheek, and he's never been as unnerved by a female in his life. "Me too."

He doesn't let himself think on it too much, tries not to with the knowledge that he could easily talk himself out of this, and at the moment, it feels so damn good. So without further hesitation, he lets himself do what he's wanted to for a really long time, and when his lips finally touch hers, he's nose-dived into something like bliss with the way it feels so natural, like nothing else could ever compare. And he doesn't think anything ever could when she lets her fingers slide through his hair, and she's pulling him to her like he'd imagined she would, when the thought was still somewhat forbidden. He's letting her tongue push through his lips because, well, he'd have never had the courage to make that move, and he's glad for it when she's moving a little faster and he's following right along - and just as quickly as it'd started, it's progressing, and he's leading her now, pressing into her, her into the tree, and his hand is moving back down her stomach and, _my God_, he's on fire.

He opens his eyes when he's moving his mouth across her jaw, pulling at the skin on her neck with his teeth, sliding his fingers into the strap of her bottoms, palming the skin of her hip - and then he's blinking against a bright light and. . .

"Leah -"

She starts, sits up. "What is that?"

"A boat," he grumbles against her jaw, pulling her to stand. "And I can imagine who's in it."

She smiles. "Go check."

She watches him jog to the shore, a jittery tick in the way she's pacing, fingers picking aimlessly at her bottoms. He so just kissed her - like, _really_ kissed her. And . . . Ack! She's telling Emily as _soon_ as she gets home, because they've been talking about this for so long. Gah, can you believe how amazing his abs are up close? She cant. And she's smiling a girly little smile, tugging her hair back up into something decent as she waits for him to come back, his voice carrying across the short distance. Her stomach erupts into fits of glorifying, excited little butterflies when she sees him approaching, a small grin of his own tugging at his lips. He holds his hand out to her, nods his head towards the shore.

"It's Billy," he concedes, slowly inching closer. "Says Seth and Harry took the shore, they'll be happy to know that we're safe and sound. . .and we're idiots for going out so far just before dark."

She smiles, a little shy. "Well. . . - yeah," she half-laughs, tucking a small strand of hair behind her ear. "Sorry about this whole thing. ."

He's in her face surprisingly quick, lips pressing softly to her nose. "I'm not."

And she's giggling under the way his lips tickle her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks. . . And finally her lips. She's nearly submerged in the way it turns from something so soft to something so hot within a few seconds, and she's arching into him, pulling him closer, body humming and head spinning and -

" - Hurry up, Jake!"

Jacob blinks, but doesn't release the hold he has on her hips. "We better go. ."

"Yeah. . ."

"Luckily we have two whole weeks here," he's whispering in her ear before he starts to lead her to the boat, taking her hand. "Maybe we can find that place tomorrow."

She grins. "Just us?"

"Just us."

And he gives her another short press to the lips before he turns around and pulls her along to the boat, picks her up when they get there and lifts her onto it, staying so close to her she thinks those butterflies may actually kill her. And as they're riding back to camp, his arm is over her shoulder and it stays that way for the duration of the trip, and his hand is on the small of her back when they get there, leading her up the shore and to their tents.

And even when Seth is standing right there, he gives her a goodnight kiss, and she swears she sees her brother grin before he turns around and walks away to his own tent, content with the kissy noises and obnoxiously loud goo-goo-eye jokes he's making to Jacob for the rest of the night.

She smiles when she hears a loud _oomph_, and Jacob's heavy footsteps sounding back to his tent.

Life is good.

.

a/n. :) Thanks for reading.


	4. D is for Dad

**D is for Dad.**

**Rated: T**

Her favorite color was Red. Not your everyday kind of red, either. It was more of a redish-brown. She'd never say Russet, never let him know that it was his fur that she adopted her favorite from. But he knew. She'd always smile when he asked, (and he asked all the time), and tell him that he was being silly. He loved the way her eyes lit up every time she saw him phased. Loved the way she seemed so proud of him. He would pounce around and chase her, let her ride him when she got tired of walking. And, yeah, sometimes just for fun. But they'd never tell her mother that. She'd have a fit.

Her favorite food was spaghetti. Not because she was a ten year old girl and all ten year old's favorite food is spaghetti. She loved it because it was _his_ spaghetti and he made the best spaghetti she'd ever eaten. Friday was spaghetti night, and every Friday night she would butter the bread and toss the salad while he worked on his special sauce. It wasn't really special. Just canned sauce with some extra garlic and parmesan, some hand made meatballs and a pinch of some random spice, just to be different. But he'd never tell her that. She'd have a fit.

Her favorite season was Winter. Not because she liked the cold or because she expected snow. They lived in Florida. Snow wasn't exactly common. She loved it because she said his fur was the prettiest in the Winter. And because they had more breaks from school during Winter than any other season, not counting summer, meaning more time with him. She liked to go to their place and watch his fur when he ran, liked to rent ten different movies and watch as many as they could until they both fell asleep in the living room, popcorn peppering the carpet from their popcorn-catching-contests.

Her favorite way to do her hair was in a single braid down her back. Not because it was easy or because that was the _in_ way to do it right now. She loved it because it reminded her of back home. Of Grandpa Billy and Grandma Sue. Of her giant uncles and her daddy's childhood pictures and his mother that she'd never met, would never get to meet. Of her mother's when she took the time to do it that way. It was comfortable enough to play in but just pretty enough to pass as effort on her part.

A braid is what she was wearing while riding the new bike Jacob bought her the day before. He watched her from the top step on the porch, elbows on his knees, chin on his hands. She waved at him and smiled, popping a wheelie before speeding off down the street. Today was Friday and they'd had spaghetti, as usual. They'd rented a few movies, watched them until they got bored. Maybe it was knowing that they had limited time that kept them from having their usual fun. Maybe it was just the frustration of the arrangement in itself. Neither knew, really. It always seemed to happen, though, when they were waiting on her. When she was only staying for the afternoon or until her mother was finished with her class.

And when Jessica Black came riding back down the street on her new bike, her mother followed behind in her car. He sighed, composed himself. There was no point in letting it get to him. They'd been at it for ten years now. The same routine, same days, same times. So he hauled himself up and got his daughter's book bag from the closet by the door and had it ready for her when she came running up the sidewalk, arms spread and ready for a hug. He was twirling her around when he heard the window let down.

"C'mon Jess, I still have to do something for dinner," Leah said to the next door neighbor's house, her arm hanging from the window.

"It's Friday, mom." He let her down, ruffled the top of her hair. "I ate spaghetti."

"Alright and I still have to eat so, please, let's go."

He tossed the little girl a wink as she reluctantly moved toward the passenger's side.

"See you tomorrow, Jess."

"Love you dad."

"Back-at-cha."

He wouldn't see her smile for twenty one hours and eleven minutes, seeing as the bus ran five minutes late for whatever reason the next day. And that was how it always worked. Three to eight on weekdays as long as her mother wasn't late, and every Saturday without fail unless her mother was out of town for the weekend and she ended up staying until Sunday night. Those were his favorites. Don't get him wrong, he hated that Leah was so busy. That she was working so hard and had so little free time. But some selfish part of him never wanted Jessica to leave when she came over, and he wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Wasn't sure if he should stifle it or savor it. She was his little girl, after all. And who could blame him for wanting to be with her all the time?

But he couldn't be with her all the time, and he never pushed for more than Leah would offer him. Well…tell Jess to offer him when she saw him. Words between he and Leah had been few and far between since Jessica was born, and when they did talk, it was usually one of those head-splitting arguments. The kind that would follow him around for days and put him in the foulest of foul moods no matter what the activity or occasion or holiday. And, unfortunately, these arguments usually happened around the holidays. Around the time that Leah would get more days off and would want to make up for the time lost during the rest of the year. Which he could understand. Because he felt the same way during said holidays when he'd only get Jess for a couple of hours on Christmas eve, then Christmas day. Long enough to exchange presents, maybe watch some sort of festive movie and get a short meal in. Leah would always have something big planned. Something that needed more time than him, something that didn't _include _him.

Yeah, it sucked. But it was just the way things were. He'd thought that he'd learn to accept them, learn to be happy with the time he and his daughter did get to spend together. Happy that they had such a good relationship, that she loved him and enjoyed seeing him and her enthusiasm was never ending. But sometimes, watching her leave, he really, truly despised himself for everything that made their lives the way they are. And in these moments, when he was alone inside his house, everything empty and silent and hauntingly still, he could feel the guilt and the regret and all those things he'd sworn to leave behind in Washington, if only for Jess's sake, resurface and tear him apart all over again. These were the moments that stuck with him the longest. No argument he had with Leah or bad day he'd have at work or rotten luck he'd catch for who-knows-how-long could make things as vividly, as miserably, clear than his own thoughts, memories, _whatever_.

And when Jessica would take the steps off the bus the next day, smiling that bewilderingly enchanting smile, he'd take her to the beach. They would eat at her favorite restaurant, order her favorite desert. He'd fill his time with her laughter to avoid how much it really _hurt_ to live just houses down from someone that used to be his everything. Hell, maybe still is. The mother of his child. The person that basically saved him, inside and out.

"Are you alright?"

He looked up from his toes, buried in the sand, to Jess's frowning face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"You seem mopey."

Her nose scrunched, her cheeks puffed and pouty.

"Nah, I'm just tired." He looked behind her, raised a brow. "Need some help with that castle?"

She turned a little too, eyeing the monstrosity that was supposed to be her army's base. "No. The enemy has already taken out most of the front wall. I don't see it being replaced without some serious reconstruction… and I'm done with sand for today."

He smiled. "Home then?"

"Home." She nodded happily, took his hand.

When they pulled up in her mother's driveway, he could tell that it was going to be one of those days. The ones where she asks him questions he doesn't have answers to, when she begs him to stay or to let her go home with him. He hates it because he cant give her either. He cant even reason with her requests because there's just no middle ground, no way to meet her halfway. It really is just one way or the other, and he cant help but die of guilt every time she asks him why….

"Why cant I just stay at your house?"

He sighed, dropped his head against the headrest. "Your mom would be pretty upset if she didn't get to see you. I'll bet she had a long day."

"I know but… but.. I mean.. - why can I only stay over when she needs me to?"

He looked at her then, watched fluster turn to irritation, watched confusion and years of the same thing swirl and nip and pinch until she'd just about had enough. He noticed her hands shaking, her breathing increase.

"Because she's your mother," he said sternly. "And she needs you just as much as I do."

He didn't let her reply because a reply would mean a continuation of a conversation that he just didn't have the strength to get through. There were only so many _I'm sorrys_, and, _You have to understands_, that a person can throw at someone else. Eventually, she'd expect real answers, and he didn't feel as if he should be the only one giving them to her. One day, when Leah was speaking to him again, when she could look at him and not seem as if she'd snap at any second; they'd tell her what happened. The truth.

He moved to ring the doorbell but his arm was knocked out of the way when Jess shoved the door open, ran through the house, straight to the kitchen.

He didn't move.

"Bye, Jess," he called in awkwardly.

"Bye daddy! See you tomorrow!"

He'd just turned to walk back down the steps when he felt her.

"Can she stay with you this weekend?"

He glanced back, nearly winced at how tired she looked. "Long day?"

For a second, she stayed relaxed. She didn't lash out or give him one of those cold glares he'd become accustomed to. Then again, she didn't look at him at all, so it didn't quite count as a win either. When she stayed quiet, he sighed.

"Of course I can."

"You don't have to work?"

"Just Saturday morning and she can come with me. It's no problem, really."

"She can just ride the bus to your house Friday. I'll be by Sunday around seven to pick her up."

The door was in his face before he could respond.

The next week didn't go by as smoothly as he'd hoped. All of those long lost feelings continued to plague him, leaving him a little more dependant on his time with Jessica than usual. Nights were a pain considering every time he went to sleep there was a nightmare to shock him back into waking up, each one a different scene from Washington. A different look into each and every fight they had, every mistake he made. All the way down to the day she told him she was moving to Florida.

So when Saturday rolled around and their trip to the Zoo commenced, he was beyond relieved. It was one of the best days to date and going home didn't seem to spoil the fun. Board games were dusted off and put to use. Movies were watched. Cake was attempted. Maybe it came out _looking_ like a real cake but, one taste of the icing and Jacob was driving them to the store, picking one up and grabbing a tub of ice cream while he was at it. He didn't bother to worry about Sunday, about Leah's face appearing at his door, signature _Jacob scowl_ in-tact and ready to shatter all desires of their relationship being put back together again.

.

When she pulled into the driveway, she decided she wasn't getting out.

When he didn't answer his phone, she decided she could just wait.

When fifteen minutes passed and the house remained still, his phone continued to go to voicemail, and she began to feel like there were elephants sitting on her eyelids… she decided that she'd go get Jessica herself.

Right. Because that's what she was going to do the whole time. She was just relaxing for a second inside the comfortable confines of her car.

The first time she knocked, she was irritated.

Irritated because he didn't answer. Irritated because she couldn't hear anyone. Irritated because she _told_ him to have Jess ready when she got there and _she didn't have time for this shit_.

The second time she knocked, she was a little worried.

Worried because Jessica was nowhere to be heard. Worried because Jacob's obnoxiously loud breathing wasn't anywhere in ear shot. Worried because, despite what she has to say about him, Jacob has never made her wait.

When she rang the doorbell, she decided she'd go in and get her.

The door creaked, despicably so, as she eased her way into the foyer. When it was closed, she used it as a prop for the smallest of seconds. The scent of his house made her head spin. _God_ it was just like home. Like grass and forest and La Push and _Jesus_ his scent was like a damn noose around her neck, cutting off her air supply and making her want to run right back out to her car. No, he didn't stink per se. But damned if it didn't take her right back to the beginning. Back to her bedroom in her mom's house. Back to that stupid recliner they shared during _every_ movie they watched. Back to that t-shirt she wore to bed once she got over the initial embarrassment that, yes, she had a soft side too. That shirt that she still has in her closet, stuffed in a box in the back. She shook her head, took a step forward.

Surprisingly, it was clean. The furniture was nice. Everything was put away, other than what she could only guess to be the games they played that night. She heard noise, tv most likely, down the hall straight ahead. Honestly, she hadn't meant to stop. Hadn't meant to let that picture on a table just before said hall melt her entire resolve into a disgusting, unacceptable pile of goo at her feet. She fingered the frame, picked it up, brought it close to her chest.

Of course he'd have a picture of them. Of course it would be the picture her mother took the day Jessica was born. Of course they would look so _damn happy_, like nothing in the world could ever make those smiles disappear from their faces. Like everything was going to be perfect. She stared at her face, smiling beside his in her hospital bed. Stared at Jess, so tiny and brand new, hugged between the two of them, wrapped in endless security. It made her stomach clench, made her head hurt. It made her eyes sting and all that work she'd put into pretending that she didn't care seemed absolutely useless now, staring at this fucking picture. Damn him for making her _feel _like this. She set it down, a little harder than necessary, and moved briskly down the length of the hallway to what she assumed was Jacob's room. The door was cracked, light shone through, and when she pushed it open she really had no idea what she was supposed to do now. They were asleep. Jessica's head was at the footboard, mouth wide open, arms flailed at the bottom of the bed. Jacob's was at the headboard, mouth wide open, arms flailed at the top of the bed.

She rolled her eyes at how loudly they both snored.

Standing awkwardly in his doorway just wasn't going to cut it. She was tired, confused, frustrated. Driving seemed like something the Devil would suggest right about now, so she settled for the couch. It was weird, being there, in his home. Somewhere she hadn't stepped foot in since they arrived here in Florida. And she absolutely despised how she wished she could stay. How his house somehow seemed like so much more of a _home_ than hers. How much warmer it felt. How familiar and safe and just…

She stuffed her head under the tiny couch pillow and promptly forced herself into sleep.

Somewhere during the night she'd acquired a real pillow. Two, actually. And….a blanket?

She peered from under this mystery blanket and her nose was greeted with something like air-particle ecstasy. An orgasm of the nostrils? An explosion of all those things she wished she could eat every morning? Wish because, well, lets face it, she couldn't cook for shit. Before she could sit up she heard footsteps, covered back up.

"Here mom," Jessica said loudly. "We made you breakfast."

Upon sitting up, she noted just about every one of her favorites neatly situated on her plate, glass of chocolate milk to top it off.

Dear Lord, she had died and gone to breakfast _heaven_.

"We had a little trouble with the French toast… but I'm pretty sure we figured it out." She turned to leave, stopped mid-step. "But in case it sucks… it was all daddy's fault."

Leah cracked a small smile, still entranced by this _perfect_ breakfast. "Thanks… sweetie."

She wasn't sure how long she actually sat there, just staring at the food. But by the time she crept her way into the dining room, they were both halfway through theirs. The laughing stopped, the joking and the unbelievably loud story-telling. Both fell silent and Jacob raised a brow, watching her unsurely.

"What's wrong, mommy? Is the food bad?"

Leah looked down at her plate, shook her head. "No, no it's fine. I just… I didn't.. - I'm gonna sit in here with you."

Jessica smiled. "Good."

Nobody commented on her being there for the entirety of the morning. And, for once, she was happy for Jacob's loud mouth. He and Jessica went on with their breakfast as if nothing ever happened and she ate quietly, watching them interact. When they were finished eating she watched them do the dishes, clean up the mess from cooking. Every so often she'd find herself smiling at something they said. At some little joke they made or a face they'd pull at the other's comment. And when it was time to leave she _hated_ how sad they looked. She hated Jess's furrowed brows and the pouty set her face took on as she was gathering her things. She hated the way Jacob avoided looking at anything but the floor, how his face seemed so innocent and soft and the way his shoulders were slumped, like a little kid who just found out his favorite toy was in the garbage and he wasn't getting a new one. And despite the fact that, yeah, they'd had an okay morning, she couldn't help but be….well… _angry_. It wasn't her fault that they were like this. It wasn't her that ruined their relationship and made them so unbelievably bitter towards one another. It wasn't her that made things so fucked up and kept them from doing things _together_. Like, oh I don't know, going to the Zoo?

"I'll be in the car," she snapped suddenly, snatching her purse from the back of the couch. "Hurry up."

Jacob didn't flinch, didn't wonder what set her off. He didn't have to. He'd known her long enough, he'd been right here, in this same situation, since they moved to this damn place. He knew the drill, knew how it worked. All it took was one memory, one wrong move, and she was back to hating his guts with every inch of her being and wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

"Why is she like that?"

He considered his daughter, standing in the kitchen doorway, backpack on her shoulders, frown pulling at her lips. Tried to think of how he'd feel if he were in her position, what he'd do. Of course, his mother was dead so there weren't really any immediate memories he could pull out and try the _what ifs_ on. Still, he knew it would be frustrating.

"She's mad at me," was his simple reply.

And he guessed that was good enough for her because she gave him a quick hug and was out the door before he could say anything else.

.

The following weeks went by fairly quickly, Jessica's birthday fast approaching with the passing time.

Leah supposed it was a bit negligent of her; waiting so long to begin planning the party. But then, everything seemed to be last minute nowadays. There was really nothing to be said for it, she honestly did the best she could. But between school and work and trying to deal with the ever looming issues with Jacob, despite her arguments that, no, she _never_ thought about him - things were just too hectic for her to do everything on her own. And Jacob _always_ weaseled himself into it. Whether or not it was intentional was of no importance, only the reality that he was still so stubbornly present in her life. Jessica did little to help the situation with her constant schemes to get them in the same room, the questioning, the obvious wish for her parents to reunite somehow. It was painful; knowing how much it bothered her, especially now that she's older. She's not afraid to voice her discontent, not afraid to fight for just _one more_ night over at Jacob's house. It was painful; always being the bad guy.

Still, they managed. Through the issues and the fights and the dysfunction of their situation, they had good days as well, and decent weekends spent doing fun things and spending quality time and talking and joking and smiling. Sometimes, she could pretend that their life was normal to an extent. Sometimes, she actually felt it, when they were sitting on the couch, watching T.V., or doing Jessica's homework on the coffee table. And sometimes, when one of those Jacob-fueled fights would ruin one of those normal moments, she could see that little glimmer flash across her daughter's eyes, that small tremor that would run up her spine, threatening to spill over - to change everything. She'd be forced to relent, for fear of pushing her too far, because once would be all it'd take. She wonders sometimes, about the differences between her genes, and theirs. What exactly changes when you put together two full blooded wolves, and create what she and Jacob has.

Sometimes, she kind of wishes she'd have stayed in La Push.

"Hey, mom," Jessica greets calmly, dropping her backpack to the stool beside her, climbing to sit at the island in the kitchen. "You're off today?"

"Yep. Tomorrow, too. I thought we could use that time to plan _somebody's_ birthday party."

Leah passes her an orange from the refrigerator, watches her nod an agreement.

The silence is uncomfortable.

"So how was school?"

Jessica shrugs, fingers pulling absentmindedly at the fruit's peeling. "Alright, I guess."

"Homework?"

"Yeah, a little."

She drops her orange back to the counter and reaches for her pack, pulling a notebook from the largest pocket. It's when she's shifting through a stack of papers from the flap in the binder, searching for whatever it is she has to complete, that Leah notices the pink piece of construction paper, sticking out of her book bag.

"What's that?" she asks, eyeing the bright paper, brow raised curiously.

Jessica peeks in it's direction, shakes her head. "Nothing, just something I drew for school."

"Well let's see it," and she's saying it mid-reach, because she can feel the tension that's suddenly in the room and for whatever reason, it feels a lot like Jessica doesn't want her to see it.

Jessica makes a weak attempt to stop her, but Leah's got it by the time she reaches, and she can feel a large knot forming in her stomach, seeing what she's drawn. Leah glances over the drawing of Jessica and Jacob. . .and then someone else. . .someone that doesn't look at all like her.

"Who is this woman?" she asks, attempting to keep the irritation from her voice.

"Daddy's friend," is her soft reply, and she seems a little guilty. "Her name is Kate."

Leah, despite strenuous effort, pulls a face, backs away from the counter a bit. "His _friend_? Since when does he have a friend named Kate?"

"Kate's been around for a long time," Jessica explains, refusing to look up from her orange. "She works with Daddy at the shop."

Leah can feel it bubbling in her stomach, the absoluteness of anger rising into her chest and neck and throat and mouth. There's no way he's with someone. Absolutely no way. He's not _allowed_ to move on. He's not allowed to find someone and be happy and forget about everything that's happened. Why the hell does he deserve to pull away from what _he_ created? He doesn't, dammit, and she's gonna make damn sure he realizes that.

Because, through all the anger and the resentment and bitterness, there's always that small part of her that finds solace in the fact that he's just as lonely as her, that he's stuck in this place, in this dark, horrible solitude, with only Jessica to shed some light on the desolate atmosphere of their everyday. And even though she's spent ten years telling herself and everyone else that she hates Jacob, hates what he did to her, hates what he did to their family. . . - she cant ignore the flare of jealousy, the thought of the two of them having a _normal_ conversation that she's had a million times that prods it's way into conscious thought. It's infuriating, and it's telling, and it's depressing. . .

"Mom?"

She glances at Jessica and gives a very small shake of her head. "It's okay, Jess," she says quietly, offering the best smile she can manage. "It's not your fault."

And it's really not.

She's just not sure who can take the blame at this point.

.

He's not really surprised when Leah shows up at his house early Friday morning, a bag in her hand. She always gets nervous when Jessica goes on these trips with Billy and Sue - hell, he cant say he's one hundred percent about them, despite his father's continuous reassurance. He watches her hand Jess the small sack, probably filled with her favorite snacks and maybe a stuffed animal, depending on what her interest has diverted to this week. He catches her when she runs at him one more time, squeezes his neck, pecks his cheek. And he really tries to ignore the tightening in his chest when he watches her do the same to Leah, watches that forgotten smile pass across her face when Jessica whispers something in her ear, probably about Sue's perfume.

He's waving as she gets in the car, and only drops his arm once the it's disappeared.

It's not all that alarming when Leah stays on the lawn for a few minutes after they've left - he gets it, nerves n' all.

But when he turns for the house and she follows, even going so far as to _enter_ the house and close the door behind her. . .he finds that he's a bit more frightened than he probably should be. She trails him all the way to the kitchen until he finally turns around to face her, face and stature completely unreadable, guard as up as he could possibly get it.

This cant be good.

"What's going on?" he finally asks, leaning forward against the counter.

She's watching him a little strangely, and it's uncomfortable having her actually _look_ at him again. She's avoided it for so long.

"I want you to explain what this is," and she sounds so damn professional, like she's speaking to a complete stranger, as she's tossing a folded piece of pink paper to the counter top.

He tilts his head a bit, mind conjuring up about a million different things she could have just tossed to him. . .but then he generally doesn't work with pink construction paper, so Jessica is more than likely to blame for whatever it is. When he unfolds it, his confusion only expands.

"It's a picture," he says slowly, dropping it back to the counter. "So what?"

She folds her arms. "Who's _in_ the picture, Jacob?"

"Me, Jess and Kate. . . .what's this all about?"

And it feels so comfortable when she inches forward, face crumpling into a drawn up mess. "This is about _you_ bringing some . . . . - some _woman_ around my child!"

"_Our_ child," and he's much calmer than she'd expected. "And she's not just some woman. She's a really good friend of mine from work. . ." he shifts, uncomfortable. "Besides, she doesn't come around that much. Only every now and then."

She seems a lot more upset than he feels she should be. In fact, the more she glares and fidgets and, well, remains in his house, he starts to think there's more to this than just _some woman_ being around their child.

"I thought we talked about this," she nearly yells, beginning to pace. "I thought we agreed that if we decided to date, we'd talk to each other about when it would be okay to bring them around Jessica. Or did you lie about that, too?"

He frowns. "For starters, Kate and I aren't _dating_. We're just friends." He sees her shoulders relax a little, but he's not really ready to drop it, now that she's started. "More than I can say for you and _Stan_."

She freezes, blinks wide eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I really hope you don't think that Jessica _actually_ keeps secrets from me. You may ask her not to tell me, but we're closer than that, and you should know better."

Her silence feels a lot like a victory.

"What I do is _none_ of your -"

"- it goes both ways, Leah. You want me out of your personal life, stay out of mine."

She seems surprised, but doesn't back away like he thought she would. She's not running this time, and it's a little intimidating. He watches her take up pacing again, watches the tension work it's way back into her shoulders. Despite her accusations, and the anger that should have been associated with them, it bothers him - seeing her so upset.

Despite the desire to keep her here, even if only because they're arguing, he doesn't want to see her this way. He's tired of being the source of her unhappiness.

And so he relents, as he's done every time this has happened for ten years. "I wont bring her around anymore," he says to his hands, pressed to the counter, unable to look at her any longer. "Jessica wont see her again."

Leah stops, drops her arms. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" and it comes out through an exasperated sigh. "Do what you ask? Try to keep the peace?"

"Pretend that you care."

He winces. "I _do_ care, Leah."

This whole morning has been confusing and something completely different than he's used to, but when she plops down on one of the barstools, drops her face to her hands. . . .it wrenches his nerves. It stirs up all those things he wishes he could just forget, at least when it counts, when he needs to pretend. He watches in silence as she leans forward, elbows on the counter, hands running up and down her face, hair falling around her shoulders. He'd use tired, but that's an adjective that's become something so frequent when addressing her, he feels it would be too repetitive. She seems exhausted and, well, _lonely_ - if he's being honest. Seeing her the few times a week that he does, he doesn't miss the spark, even if only out of hate, that flashes through her eyes when she sees him. He knows how it feels. At least it's _someone_. Being home with Jessica is wonderful, but sometimes he longs for adult conversation, for things that the kid cant, and _shouldn't_, understand at her age. Sometimes he wants to be a grown up, and always finds there's nobody to be grown up with. Explaining the entire Kate situation in a nutshell.

"Why are you here?" he finally asks, shattering the strangely peaceful silence. "Why do you even care?" He pauses, shakes his head when she starts to answer. "And don't say it's because of our 'rules'. . .if they applied like they should, that whole Stan situation would have been a much bigger issue."

She glances up at him through parted fingers, looks a lot like a frustrated child. "You don't _deserve_ to be happy with someone else."

He knew it was coming, honestly, he did - but it doesn't dull the sting. It doesn't ward off how the words make him want to seal his mouth closed and walk to his room and slam the door, ignoring anything else she might want to say. Knowing what she'll say and what she's going to use against him, well, it's not as useful as you'd think. No matter how many times she throws them at him, it never changes how much it hurts. But he doesn't flinch; cant, really, after everything that's happened. His eyes train on her because she's letting them and he shrugs through the now awkward tension.

"I'm _not_ happy, Leah," he says honestly, ignoring the way her eyes widen a little. "I'm miserable - _all the time_. Unless Jessica is here to distract me, I'm a disaster. . .is that what you wanna hear? Does that make you feel better? Knowing how unhappy I am living here with nobody but my daughter to hang out with?"

Leah opens her mouth, but seems unable to find what she was going to say, so he continues.

"I haven't been happy since we broke up, not really. I have my moments, you know, when Jessica stays over or I'm working, but it's not like it used to be. Nothing is, I guess. It's what I deserve though, right? To live out the rest of my life alone, depressed, all my time revolving around you and our daughter. If that's all you were worried about, then you wasted your time. I'm not dating, Leah. Haven't since you." He shrugs and turns a little, takes up staring at the laundry room door. "Just like I told you ten years ago."

And maybe she remembered what she was going to say, because she made some sort of noise, but he's found that he no longer wants to hear what she thinks of all this. He doesn't want her here anymore at all, now that he's been reminded of what his life is going to be. Of what it's been for all these years. Thinking of his misery usually only makes him more miserable, so to prevent further bashing of his resolve and what's left of his pride, he moves to leave the room, mumbles a quiet, "you know where the door is," and starts for the hallway. He stops in the threshold when she finally finds her voice.

"You've never fought me on anything," she whispers, straining his ears. "You've never pushed for more time with her, never threatened to take me to court, never made excuses with her child support. You've always _paid_ her child support, probably more than was necessary. I've never understood why you made things so easy when I was trying to take everything away from you."

He shrugs in the silence that follows. "I was wrong. I felt bad," he laughs a little, turning back to face her, surprised to find she's looking at him again. "I still feel bad. I fucked everything up, I've always known that. Never denied it, never made excuses. There was no excuse." He can see her eyes watering a little, and finds that it sucks just as bad as it always has; knowing he's about to make her cry. "I had sex with her that night, and I've regretted it every second since."

The admission feels strange coming from his lips, as it did back when he first told her. It makes his mouth taste sour, makes his skin crawl. And there's a tear on her cheek, just like he knew there would be, because he knows it hurts just as much now as it did back then. As self depreciating as it was, he never even entertained the idea of trying to lie to her. What would be the point? It would have never gone away, would have stayed with him for the rest of his life, known to her or not. Eventually, it would have worn him down, and she'd have found out, and Jessica would have been old enough to understand and she'd have hated him for it. Like Leah hates him for it.

Leah sniffs and shakes her head, a hand pressed to her stomach. "You never even told me _why_," she forces around the deepening frown. "You wouldn't even explain what happened. You gave me no _choice_ but to blame you."

He stands still in the doorway, mulling over her words as if she'd just spoken in another language. He wonders, fleetingly, over the rising tension in his temples, why she's trying to talk about this now. What drove her to the point that she'd choose to bring this up, and not only that, actually seek him out and purposefully initiate it. What had started as an argument over another woman in his life is fast becoming the single most important conversation they'll ever have. He knows, because she's still looking at him, still waiting for him to respond, and he's got that acidic knot in his stomach, eating away at his ability to function properly.

"Because it _was_ my fault," he says simply, trusting what he's believed from the beginning. "What else was there to say? Why would you want me to make excuses?"

"There's a difference between excuses and reason, Jacob. Why were you even over there to begin with? Why would you go to her house, knowing what being around her does to you?"

He watches her eyes drop to her lap, probably out of embarrassment. Unneeded, of course, because being embarrassed is useless between them now. They've seen every part of the other, been there at the worst. He watched her give birth to their child and she watched him writhe through the separation of his imprint. It never really occurred to him to give her any sort of reason, because in the end it would still be a deal breaker, and he knew that. He knew she'd never forgive him, she'd never see passed it, never be able to look at him and see what they had over what he'd done. But then, looking at her now, he's not so sure. Because she seems so…_sad_. Like ten years hasn't dulled the loss. And it really was like losing the other half, he knows, because he's been living as an incomplete partial since she said she was leaving him. He moves a little closer, testing just how real this is, and stops a scant few inches away from the counter at her side.

"I was going to see my uncle," he says quietly, glancing away when she turns to him. "Sam told me he was in town, and I wanted to visit before he left again."

"Tammy had been staying with Emily for a month, she's your _imprint_, who you severed all ties with after realizing what had happened, and you _still_ went over there? Your uncle could have come to Billy's… to our house.. _anywhere_ but there."

"Emily said she was gone when I called," and it's the first time he's actually thought out all the details of what happened that night. "Said she'd gone home to explain to her family what had happened, and I believed her, because why the hell would she lie about something like that, ya know? And she wasn't there when I got there, didn't show up for about thirty minutes."

Leah swallowed, leaned forward on the counter, closer than she's been to him in years. "What happened then?"

"Leah -" because he _really_ doesn't want to tell her. Doesn't want to relive anything about that night _ever_ again, though he's sure she deserves an answer to whatever questions she asks, after all they've been through. "I told you what happened."

"You told me what, but why? How? What did she say to you that would make you forget about _everything_ we'd finally gotten? We were _happy_, Jacob." Her gaze is strong on his face, even when the tears start to fall. "We had everything we wanted, and you had _me_, so what did she do or offer or say that was better than what I was giving you?"

And that was just it - "nothing," he mumbles, frowning. "She didn't give me anything. She was just there, and apparently for our ancestors and all their stupid traditions and whatever it is that chooses everything for us, that was enough."

Leah seems to choke a little on the vagueness of his answer, but stands firm. "Tell me."

He eyes her for a second, and finally relents. "She walked in the house and sat down beside me and never said a word. She didn't even look at me. I was surprised, but it wasn't all that bad with the way she was acting. I stayed for a little while, caught up with my uncle, ate a hamburger. I was saying bye to Emily when she first touched me, just her hand on my arm, but it was enough to make me nervous. I left without another word to anyone, decided to walk, just to clear my head. I knew she was following me once I hit the main road. I could hear her breathing hard, trying to keep up. I thought it was funny that she couldn't. We made it to town before she finally said anything, and she was tired, so she didn't bother with any niceties."

Leah nods, urging him on, when he pauses.

"I didn't stop at first, and didn't until I was on the road to my dad's house, like it was safer or something," and he laughs, because it really was a dumb move. "She told me that she wanted to make it go away; that pain I felt when she was around. She said she knew that it hurt me to be away from her, and that it was silly to fight it. Stupid, even. She was who they chose for me, right? When I explained that I don't love her, she laughed." He shakes his head at the memory of her standing in front of him, so uncaring and sure. "I started to walk away, she grabbed my arm. She was doing it on purpose, after that - saying things just to get me riled up. She loves me, she needs me, cant live with out me. I was okay…really, I was. I was in control until… well, until she kissed me."

"You should have told me," she says when turns away, walks to the sink. "You should have told me this in the beginning instead of leaving me to draw my own conclusions. I -"

"It doesn't change anything," he argues before she can finish. "It wouldn't have changed what I did. I didn't want it to happen, but her playing on our 'bond' doesn't give me some kind of free pass. You and I both know you wouldn't have been any more inclined to forgive me, whole story or not."

It's surreal; being here with her, _talking_ to her, having her actually talk back. She's listening to him, _really_ listening, for the first time since he told her, and he tries to squash the tiny bit of hope that starts to burn in his chest. He knows better. This had to be aired out eventually, and it doesn't have to change anything.

It doesn't _have_ to, but he cant help but pray that it does.

"I was angry, I know," she's saying to her fingers, splayed on the counter. "I had every right to be… but I would have listened. And maybe I wouldn't have forgiven you right away, but maybe I could have, had I known." The way she begins to sniffle, a testament to the building emotions, makes him wary. Because he knows it's building up to something, and all this talk of past tense makes his stomach hurt. I _was_. I _could have_. _Maybe_. He hates the way they sound.

When she stands up, he falls still, eyes focused on the trees outside the window.

But she doesn't move towards the door, and instead is a few inches from his back when she speaks again. "I think we did a lot of things wrong," she's forcing through her pride, fingers tentatively reaching for his shoulder. "I think you fucked up, and I wasn't any better for how I handled it." She's touching him, just fingertips on the cotton of his shirt, but he closes his eyes and savors it anyway. "But I. . - these past ten years have been horrible. Jessica is always asking why we're not together, I feel guilty for lying to her. I feel guilty for being so angry, and I'm angry _all _the time. When I saw that picture I figured I'd just hate you all the more, but it was different. I couldn't be mad at you or at her for drawing it. It was just me. I'm miserable here because I'm so alone and I feel like I've screwed everything up. So I try to make it all your fault when it's… well, it's me. I'm lonely, and I hate myself because I miss you so much. I hate seeing you because it just reminds me of how much I wish we were together like a real family, that we hadn't wasted all this time being pissed at each other.."

He finds it difficult to breathe as he turns around and faces her, because it's difficult to define how amazing the words sound coming from her mouth, rather than being recited in his head. He's staring, he knows, but she's never been as beautiful as she is right now, finally telling him how she feels. He blinks once, just to be sure she's actually here, and a smile slowly creeps across his mouth.

"I've missed you too," he says quietly, though he knows he's taking a risk with something so forward.

She rolls her eyes. "Everything I said and that's all you heard?"

He gives a slight shrug. "I would do anything to have you back, even if just as a friend, and you know that."

She doesn't touch him again, and he makes no move for her, but she eats spaghetti with him that night and he feels something give a little when she sits on the couch and he in the chair and they make it through an entire evening without one negative comment. It's a start, and it's all he could have hoped for.

.

Jessica Black hops out of her grandparent's car and make a beeline for her father's front door. Disney World had been a blast, but she was ready to see her parents, even if it had to be one at a time. Week long trips were always the hardest, despite having Princesses and games and rides to distract her. She takes the stairs by two and pushes through the door with an excited squeal, announcing her arrival in happy shouts until she reaches the kitchen, the center of her father's household, and finds it empty. She drops her book bag to the ground and peeks around the corner, to the living room, yells for him one more time.

"In here, Jess."

She rounds the corner to the dining room and nearly trips over her feet trying to stop…

"Happy birthday!"

Honestly, it's a lot to absorb. Her father _and_ mother, right here, in the same room, smiling and lively and… _happy_ looking. She opens her mouth but finds that it'd be easier just to smile, and glances over the very nice, very _large_ cake in the center of the table. The dining room is so nicely decorated and she can see the presents in the corner, by the door, and when she moves in to give them both a hug she sees four tickets to that theme park she's been wanting to go to sitting on the table. When they hug her together, she knows something's shifted, that it's different, and even though they don't say anything, it's in the way they talk to each other as they move through her little party, and how they smile at each other, rather than scowl. She notices so many small details, and she thinks that those, along with the knowledge that she's probably just gotten her family back, even if only a little at a time, makes for an amazing eleventh birthday, and bright visions of what next year's could bring.


End file.
